Archive for the ‘moon’ Category


Questions and Answers

May 24, 2007



For Poetry Thursday on Dialogues.

Questions and Answers

You sat with me
under the sky-clad heaven
and I asked
if stars can be reincarnated
You laughed at my curiosity
and we blamed the world
for not knowing the answer:

I laughed and
found you
laughing with me.

I longed
to sit beside you
behind the moon
and find out how long
its shadow is
a little longer,
in some places , perhaps.
But I know we could do
without such questions.

I think I’ve had
a little too much
to drink.
And now stripped
of certainty, I am a child again
who grew up to fast
finding myself dizzy,
with slurred heart-confessions:

I laughed and
found you
laughing with me.

Behind the smoke
you exhaled and
the soul I inhaled,
we kissed,
tracing the beginning
of each contact
and I wonder
whether my lips
meant something more.

You wake me
from dreams
of chasing equal signs
making me realize
that reality is of two wholes
in a plane of acceptance.
My heart beats fast
to find yours
in the same incongruent sync:

I laughed and
found you
laughing with me.

I search with lips,
with tongue for
answers that might be
found under a blanket of skin,
on a bed of grass,
in a perfect equation.

Morning streaks
through the leaves
delivering a new-born star
making darkness irrelevant
because after all,

I laughed

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Sleight of Hand

May 16, 2007

“Destiny is in your hands.”

It was right after graduation when
I heard it from a fortune teller,
my silver quickly disappearing into
the darkness of her robe before
I could snatch it back. I started
telling her to at least fool me a bit
but she cut me off by closing the flap
over the gaping mouth of the carnival tent.

I looked on silently as she
called out to the night sky,
arms raised gracefully,
catching slivers of
moonshine in her hair-
softly spun strands of
shimmering magic lengthening
then weaving itself into visions

in my palm as her fingertip traced
the lines to the edges of my hand where
it went on to transform into glowing
strings tied to things I have touched:
pencils, clutched tightly through exams,
books, held both with wonder and boredom,
chalks, crumbling into powder as my
teachers wrote about the hands of

mothers cradling us to sleep,
fathers guiding our first steps,
classmates hi-fiving each other in hallways,
friends pulling us up or embracing us
so our lifelines entangle in knots-
leaving imprints of each other,
plaiting futures into any path
we may wish to follow.

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