7/17/2008

Luno



I looked up to find the moon-
Once again
an orange sickle poised
to

d
r
o
p

cutting oceans into
seas,
into
undulations,
waves that
crashed onto shells that house Fibonacci.
splashed unto faces that beam Fibonacci.
carried flagrant flowers that bloom Fibonacci.

[1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21]

The fattened sickle
Now pregnant, full
coaxes the fetus from the womb

Inhale [pull]
Exhale [push]

The lunar father smiles
Lets flesh-and-blood fathers cut the umbilical cord
That tied us to our earth-and-mother


We passed cigars
And cheered
“Congrats!
A boy!”

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