thunder moon

the girl clothed in wisteria stands
under the thunder moon with
midnight in her fists
next to the bedroom window
with the single light still on
upon the nightstand Ray Bradbury
page eighty-nine, the
burning of books-—

They say you retain knowledge
even when you’re sleeping,
if someone whispers in your ear

whispers under the July moon
life is obvious she says, but lonely
phases written in hands
dystopias sketched aloud
in tongues

 

 

 

 

 

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