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Lunar Gravity

By Zara Wilder

Do you remember
the first time
you saw the moon?

Was it a weightless
orb of opaline light,
aspiring heavenward above
the sequined horizon?

Was it a perfect
crescent blade, gleaming
wetly in the sky,
cold as ridicule?

Was it a single
silver line, sketching
the boundary between
empty space and fulfillment?

Was it half a coin
broken down the middle,
deposited into night's velvet
purse for safekeeping?

Was it a silent heartbeat
presiding secretly from
the shadow of the world,
unleashing inner tidal waves?

Do you remember how it felt?
How it seemed?
How you wanted it to be?

Did the moon call you by name?
Do you remember?