Fingernail Moon | HUNTER THOMAS

Fingernail Moon

poetry by Hunter Thomas

People say a crescent moon is like a fingernail. I think they must mean: a Thumbnail, Like a reminder of where you are, an image to ground you While surfing the tides. Landmark directions, no map. I wish it WAS a thumbnail though, the In Real Life ones, the kind you can bite or pick at when you’re nervous. Wouldn’t that be nice?

A modular moon, that won’t stare you in the face, laugh at your paper mache crown. -Something you could squeeze out of the sky if you got the right angle- scatter its bits all over the bathroom mirror until

you can’t see, so you can finally take that photorealistic photo now. Every day is picture day after all. What if you could just shoot the moon? -Show it who’s boss, let the Sun take the fallbut I know it will be back tomorrow, Good Ol’ Reliable Moon

If I had a moon of my own, a moon like this I’d never forget when it was important and never be reminded when it wasn’t.

We’d make a pact, me and the moon I would slice my hand open, stick it in a crater,

and we would be family. Then the moon would know why I called so late just to check if everything is okay. Hear a voice and know I’m not stuck without

something to hold on to.

That moon would pull me back, my sweet fingernail moon could get it, And it just would.