Poetry

The moon titled her head 
and went inarticulate 
in black and white. 
 
Seeding the earth with 
stupor, undoing my- 
poem in water. 
 
An asteroid crashed in 
my blue lake. Sit beside me, 
I would say to a songbird. 
 
The cardinal sin was 
to abandon the throne 
and climb down at night. 
 
What was the designer's 
love, I will ask, when I 
was preparing myself for a self-denial.