Moon Mirrors the Mind

 by Taylor Turner

​

The moon hangs overhead…

A pale, perfect coin pressed into the sky…

We can almost see the thumbprint…

 

We lie flat, spine stitched to cold grass… 

            Palms open.

We've forgotten how to hold… 

 

We loosen our minds… 

            Slip the leash.

Let the world blur at the edges… 

 

Bills, bodies, broken promises… 

            Blink out.

Instead, our mind mirrors the moon… 

 

A silver face frozen in space…

A peeled orange oozing juice…

 

A mucky marble lost beneath a bed… 

A dinner plate chipped at the rim… 

 

But the mind is a traitor.

            Flip the coin.

 

Marbles crack, oranges sour, ceramic shatters…

 

Our breath grows shallow…

A single syllable of survival…

 

Anxiety hums like static…

Returning to the heart…

 

First a whisper…

Right behind the ribs…

 

What if…

            What next…

                        What now…

 

Our chest counts the seconds wrong…

The air feels immense and suffocating…      

 

Let the hum fade…

            Press it down.

Let the static soften… 

 

Beneath our breath…

            Bury it.

Beneath our bones…

 

Think of vinyl records spinning…

old songs never skipping...

 

Moon River... 

Wider than a mile...

 

Soap bubbles bubbling with borrowed rainbows...

The wide eye of a clock spinning night and day…

 

Smelling three-dollar coconut-scented candles…

Birthday cakes that earn smiles and wishes…

 

A mother-to-be cupping the curve of her round belly…

She creates miracles, creates life, creates us… 

 

Youth is taught to be resilient.

But resilience feels too heavy tonight.

 

So 

            we 

                        float...