The Loss of the Moon

I saw the moon come down.

I was driving that old stretch

Between home and late night,

Not another car on the road,

The moon the only real light

In a sky pitted with enough clouds

To chase off most stars. The moon

Made enough of a hole to lick

The dark itself. But then

The moon started to come down.

As if inch by inch, though

That seemed but an optical illusion

Given my angle and distance. I watched

It sliding lower, eyes darting back

To the ever-darkening road often enough

That I could drive without slowing,

My wife expecting me home on time.

Finally, it was out of sight, lost

In the trees. I did not actually see

It crash, nor did I feel

Earthquake or rumble, collision

Or fevered merge. The conclusion

Was simply the dark sky, the darker

Road, and I thought the tides,

The tides.


Author: Ken Poyner

Ken’s four collections of brief fictions and four collections of poetry can be found at Amazon and most online booksellers.  He spent 33 years in information system management, is married to a world record holding female power lifter, and has a family of several cats and betta fish. Individual works have appeared in Café Irreal, Analog, Danse Macabre, The Cincinnati Review, and several hundred other places.  He has had seven Pushcart nominations without fielding a single win.

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