Pox-marked Identical Twin
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
My heart is like the moon, the cratered sphere,
The fissured moon so badly damaged that
It wanders looking for itself both there and here
In night-time skies because of harms that splat
Against it, leaving it so battered in
Its orbit that . . . deformed . . . it looks too maimed
To be what moons of love should be. Your sin
Against it makes it almost bruised-blue maimed.
A moon (a heart) should not be battered like
You batter mine (this moon, this heart). This moon
Is like a punctured beauty, as if spike
Or nail deflates a lovely hot balloon.
This satellite was yours to love and hold,
Was ours to share, to twinningly uphold.
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