Alphabet Soup Minuscule

J.C. Scheff

2 A.M. Sirens


Last night I held the moon.

Close.

Our heads contained to one pillow.

I wondered, as he shined before me, if he could read my thoughts.

Or sense the emotions that were running through my body, like the blood in my veins.

I observed his reaction, as I brought a particle of crushed ice,

Gingerly to his lips, so that he could taste.

I began to wonder if he loved the color green.

Would his pulse rise like mine?

At the waking calls of 2 a.m. sirens.

 

As I held him, I asked if he could stay.

To hold me as I dream.

His smiled a tired smile,

Kissing my forehead,

Pulling me into him,

Close.

Cradled together like infants.

Our eyes became heavy,

And his light began to dim with the song of the 4 a.m. robin.

 

This morning I woke up,

Holding the sun.

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7 thoughts on “2 A.M. Sirens

  1. this is exquisite. nice change to read of a masculine moon, I always think of it as a pregnant light. well done, my dear

  2. Paul Christiansen on said:

    Ooh, that’s nice.

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