The Wrinkle in Your Blouse

06.18.18

tonight i can see
the nose of the crescent moon as
he stares back into me

i've wondered after all these years,
if he can see what i hold in my bones
my heart is sore, young and weak

i remember just how much of me

this moon has seen

i wonder if he can remember my purple shorts and space buns, my bright blue eyes and long blond hair

i catch myself wondering,
the moon remembers no more
than the luscious sound of the tide
bright and grey in the night,
the waves crashing ashore and back again,

it's then, I know,
i'm only thinking of this moon
the way i've wondered about you