A figure stands, lasso in
hand, asks: "do you want the moon?
The waves then, pulled by
a heavenly force, rise and
fall and rise again.
Melting on impact,
separating like tiny
sun bursts turning stars.
Connecting now and
hearts beating once again, sync-
ing us in slow tune.
Blending we swirl to-
gether, reaching and pulling
it all in to us.
New and patternless,
free from the expectations
felt for the starlight
Release me slowly-
Suspended in disbelief
I remain, hanging
A smaller part of
the greater working system;
cosmic fault or not.
Smog
In the milk-grey morning light,
sun or leftover moon, for a moment we could not tell.
We watched night clouds collide
in the milk-grey morning light.
Saw them form to make signs.
Looked too close and out eyes swelled
in the milk-grey morning light.
Sun or left-over moon, for a moment we could not tell.
[+]
Katy-Whitten Davidson lives in Columbus, MS with
her almost 1 year old son, Zooey. She's an English
major at the University of Alabama with plans to
graduate next May.
