After You’ve Been Suddenly Sick
This morning’s moon’s a miracle
like the stone rolled away
from the tomb,
like a stone rolled
to the crest of a hill so high
that my own private Sisyphus sighs,
exhaling opalescent wonder.
Light reflected from who knows when
shines brighter
than the freshest egg blue
and when I say to you,
“come see, if you feel well enough,”
you are beside me,
lithe, shining, and warm, as always, when wrested
from a deep sleep, a miracle,
and the stone
that can sometimes be my heart
catches that light from above
and from my side, and grows smooth
around its edges, like the word
“promise.”
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Here’s a poem posted very belatedly for Izzy Gruye’s prompt on With Real Toads to write a poem about the moon that doesn’t mention normal sky words. (I’m not sure I’ve actually done it here.)
I am also linking this to dVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night
ManicDDaily 
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