The New Moon

Turn over a new leaf for the moon,

black, as they call it, is new tomorrow.

I feel its tug

its cyclop gaze

I cannot avert

nor do I want to,

at times.

I’m proud of how

I look,

how I act,

mostly.

I notice I’m kinder

towards myself

and more thoughtfully

loving toward others

as they pass

my mental gaze

after a warm

epsom salt bath.

I smile at the moon

tugging away

at my resistance

to be closer.

I may have to

pack a lunch.

The moon may not

have much to eat.

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Categories: creative, creative writing, fear, Poetry, Uncategorized, visibility, writing | Leave a comment

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