On The Moon We Wore

I Was Pretending That I Did Not Speak Their Language; On The Moon We Spoke A Soft, Liquid Tongue, And Sang In The Starlight, Looking Down On The Dead Dried World.

Life Among The Savages Is A Disrespectful Memoir Of My Children.

It Is Only With The Eyes Open That A Corporeal Form Returns, And Assembles Itself Firmly Around The Hard Core Of Sight.

You Will Be Wondering About That Sugar Bowl, I Imagine, Is It Still In Use? You Are Wondering, Has It Been Cleaned? You May Very Well Ask, Was It Thoroughly Washed?

On The Moon We Wore Feathers In Our Hair, And Rubies On Our Hands. On The Moon We Had Gold Spoons.