Poems

14 • metaphor

you're trying to piece together those
precisely cut, smooth
thousand pieces of moon
jigsaw
the moon is in the centre of the jigsaw and
slightly left, as though [it were] the heart
 
the rim/edge of the heart is cloudy
the needle thin star light pierces concealed/in darkness
(if one/we walked barefoot across
it would definitely hurt wouldn't it)
these clouds, star clusters
this chaos you know about
is fun, is the process of the gay
necessary confusion
you're trying to piece together the moon's round
            (why has the moon changed shape
            cracked
            can't be put together [neatly])
 
the moon says that things were to begin with
like this, scattered,
a thousand pieces of moon cluttering/surrounding/blocking the bedside
you are trapped in the moon
in your own
confused imagery