Oh Moon, My Moon By Alec Brewer
Oh moon, my moon, show me What you keep. Show me what Bustling streets you hide when Your face is turned away—show me What that White Eye Keeps. Show me what I will never understand, what Dreary lies might be Tucked away From my Mind—that ugly box filled with Crisp dollars and smoky incense. I’ll never get to see it; I’ll never merge With its cosmic rays and understand Why. Oh moon, my moon, show me My glittering reflection in the pool; let the Man smile back so I know there’s no fault. Let me just say that you are Lovely, my moon. Your holes and ruts, your Black-spots and craters all seem to Shine even brighter when they are Pointed out by those crooked and Stained hands from the ones who Call themselves believers. I know you, My moon, that you show us all. You show us our fall.
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