The Moon Trick


I trembled in the dark barely containing my excitement. I wanted to howl at the moon but where was it? I could not see it hanging in the sky. I could not feel the weight of it in my palm or hear it rolling about the floor like a great round marble. It wasn’t hiding behind a door or in the cockles of my heart, not that I have ever really been convinced that hearts have cockles. It had simply disappeared. Or it had never been there at all.

Perhaps there is a thing I mistook for the moon just because you hung it for me. Why would you do that? Hang a fake moon and tell me it was mine? What a mean trick to play on all the wolves. Singing to an origami moon and chasing rabbits through the snow under it’s cold, pale impossible light.

I realize now that when you left, you slipped it into your pocket. You took it back without saying a word. And my whole world is left without a moon. My whole heart is left without you. The wolves have no muse. The hares no longer have a shadow. The sea will fall slack without the tidal pull.

Undeterred, I howl to spite the empty sky. I wait but there is no answer. The howl rattles around a bit in what would be the cockles of my heart, if I had them. It dwindles to a raspy echo. It’s just not the same without the moon. The glorious howl of communion has become a lonely wimper.

-LM 2014


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