By Deon Robinson
A LUNAR VERNACULAR ATTAINED FROM A BEACH AT MIDNIGHT
What is the ocean if not the largest tear gland
you’ve ever swam in? I forget we let the moon dictate these waves of water,
and I’m jealous that it was given the power to shape
a destiny so fluid in its form.
The sun skinny dips into the ocean, turning
all the world into this breathtaking blue.
I don’t have enough time to hold hands with each grain of
sand before the sun decides it’s swallowed enough
molten obsidian to become light again.
Every time a town floods,
I want to ask the moon
if that was the only way it learned to show love,
I want to bask in that kind of naïveté, you know?