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To Arielle and the Moon

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The night reduced to a siren, a sigh:

Beautiful boy on the treadmill

Glimpsed sweating through sweating glass—

My new moon.

Sylvia’s moon: a smiling skull

Snagged in witchy branches; fossil

Brushed free of blackest earth.

My last moon: an orange ball at rest, for an instant,

On the grey lake.

Wish list: dining set and dresser,

Boombox, thin black tie, boy-

Friend à la Madonna’s “True Blue”

La la la la la la la

Your moon (tonight): a clouded X-ray.

I stand at a corner and stare up,

Both of us astonished

By its own secret light.

“To Arielle and the Moon” from The Late Show (Turtle Point Press, 2007). © 2007 by David Trinidad. Used by permission of author.
Source: The Late Show (Turtle Point Press, 2007)
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To Arielle and the Moon

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