The moon was a full moon: heavenly flex.
Full of itself and the light of the sun,
The marble remains of a magnificent nude,
A bare breast in the night sky.
It is true that the moon was invisible on
Its own, that its beauty and majesty were
Borrowed things, nothing like a divine right.
A beauty democratic.
All the same, there was plenty of evil to go
Around. A little girl was locked in a basement
And there it was seasonless and dayless and
In every way primordial,
Except that she existed, and God was
Not there to precede things.
All the same, there was plenty of goodness to go
Around. A young couple was pledging allegiance,
And they went home and made the best love that
Anyone had ever made because it was their own
And it was an entirely original love
Because they had never existed before to make it.
And the moon slipped through the shades into
The bedroom and slipped back out and fled,
Ashamed, and turned the face of the moon blood red.
Originally published in: https://conlansalgado.substack.com
