Moon/Mirror

Tonight you will be egotistical.
You will rip apart an orange into the sects of the moon’s forms
Torn there, shattered framed by the instant magnet of hardness
It’s equivalent to a formula—a formulation for destruction
An elliptical theory in a fit of an angelic disorder in disputable earth tones
Each starry night without blundering, completely voluptuous like
                                                          science like hurling words not theory
Inside this mirror-insight, this near-ice like God resisting temptation
                                                                         facing a hard-shaved river
Is anyone out there listening? I’ve rubbed these same two stars
                                                     together now for centuries shuddering
Into the ordinary slivered sky a private sigh unravels:
What do you want to know? A lilting negative honoring?

Copyright © 2004 Cynie Cory All rights reserved
from American Girl
New Issues
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission