Fingering the Moon

The sun is jealous, his reflective bride
Ranging from thin to wide, from dark to light
(O, swear not by the moon!), his husband’s right
Too easily undone, his daily pride
Nightly disdained as separately they glide
In cruel, uneven orbits. Now she is slight,
Mostly in darkness, her nocturnal flight
Bringing her faultless body to my side.

She loves me, claims she never wed that loon —
“He just assumed consent, for his own ends”
(A claim she still resolutely defends).
“He’ll understand all this, I promise, soon.”
So while I’m gently fingering the moon
She smiles for me, pretending we’re just friends.

At the GSM

I’m at the Governor Saint Mexico,
Which got its name from an enchanted book
About the magic everywhere you look
That fills the whole room with a foreign glow.
I’m on the ground floor, going toe to toe
With wizards claiming this place is their nook,
Their home away from home. The building shook
When they discussed where fingertips should go.

I wanted to be with you, but I’m not;
I wanted to be free of sadness, fear,
And sickness, but my failure’s all too clear:
The fairy dust won’t work the way I thought,
And my heart is an unenchanted spot.
I don’t know any spells. That’s why I’m here.

Robot Lover Lullaby

My wonderful and artificial larynx
Is better than the one your mother used,
Exploring high notes with her oblong pharynx
While you claim you were listening, amused.
Sometimes I add an underlying hum,
Like bagpipes or that electronic sound
From old TVs, that meditative thrum
They sing when thrown from windows to the ground.
I’ll make you love me, unabashedly,
Dissevering yourself from human harms,
Replacing human voices, and the sea,
With my love and my automatic charms.
Your lack of feelings always makes me proud,
And causes me to sing extremely loud.