Poetry No. 47 – rhea moon


you brush with one tender
finger under your earlobe
the very
just three evenings prior
i watched in earnest

a trembling sentry sat behind you in church

the vulnerable flesh poised
to meet the prospect of my lips
and i could’ve just
swept that spot

gentler than a feather duster bumping
everything on the way down

or so i thought it might be like

you pointed upward
scrawled on the ceiling

it’s true

next day
while in the bookstore
with Boosie
i caught sight of you
in a blazer
and you moved me

super serious
conveyer belt smooth
you strode off

with the enthusiasm of a recent convert
i marked the sign of the cross
i prayed a sacred vow
from this mouth
to that spot

rhea moon is the author of “midnight zone”, a first chapbook, lives in pittsburgh, pa, and is a single parent. rhea has an essay forthcoming in Argot Magazine.

© rhea moon

Photo Credit:  © rachid amrous / Adobe Stock