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.