A poem by Madhuri
Somebody carved her
And she carved him back.
She got little eyes
Like a coconut.
She gave him fangs
And faucets.
Her laugh will pull us through.
We are not her keeper
She keeps herself
As round things do.
I was her favorite child
And so were you.
The moon
Lied to keep us
She invited us to love her
Whether we wanted or not.
She was the jewel we longed for
To put upon our finger
How flashy we could show our
Prance upon the moon
That bore us. Right now, Moon.
From More About the Moon
Poem and photo by Madhuri
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