a song from the moon to the devil.

to race the arc to nowhere
and to keep shining with reflected light
to be in moonlight's kingdom
one out of all her creatures, pale, revering
of the dreaming
wishing for what they wish for
dancing through themselves, alone
and I'm watching from below
looking up into the clouds
and saying 'yes, today
and I wait for your tomorrow
for you are in our kingdom
as I am passing through your own.'

(as if we were just our numbers on the axes
as if the additions made a jot of sense
as if her light weren't shining on the river
as if I were right, not nice or good
as if these stolen fragments were a whole
under the moonlight
where the cracks don't show, where we can imagine
that the pieces form a whole
and that all began here,
that this is truth, the rest reflection
but we are stranger than we dare to see
built from white nothing
with our own hands.)