DECEMBER 14, 2022
Our bodies are not celestial
the moon exploded and it took a week
for me to notice, it started as an itch when I stepped out
onto the disappearing line of dark sand along the sea
beside the highway, not seizing me fully until
the water, impossibly as glass, reflected a sky ablaze
with stars piercing the veil of Earth without competition.
I bid a hasty farewell to monthly mood swings and
the sea of tranquility, and looked down into the glass
at a face far less iconic and significant, formed over only
a handful of decades against of backdrop of shining true ancients
growing stronger after a billion years. Even so,
I still piss in the sand and try to spell my name
David Kraft is a poet in Minneapolis, MN, who thus far has failed to learn how to breathe underwater.