The Moon is Only for Poets
by A. A. Parr
for Tiredbuttried

Block out the sky with your fist
and tell me
the moon is only for poets;
when I capture that white sphere in the glass
beyond your treads, say
it was only you, howling.

Howl.

Tell me you know this is all wrong, tell me
you tried. Tell me to leave, tell me
this is the part where I might write in a loon,
laughing.

Then capture what you think of me
in your book with no covers, write five words instead of two:
you tried, but I tired/
it's you.

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