When we met
Staring directly at my scars of chaos
She said
If we can’t find the man in the moon
We’ll be unable to find our true face
She’s curled up like a kitten
Wearing her soft blue pajamas
I have finished writing a poem
Wading through raw sewage
Trying to find the beauty
In the stink of it all
I know it must be there
As I read to her she begins dancing
With the the sway of my inflection
Moving in a way
That understands my motivation
In a way
That oils my creaking bones
In a way
That brings tears to my eyes
To be loved for my creative issue
Emerging from the darkness
Of my secret places
These little celebrations
Infuse sunshine into a solid gray heart
I finish reading and hold her gently
We dance in the beautiful silence
Of a soft afterglow
She re-curls in her soft blues
I curl up with her too
looking out the window
At the man in the moon
