When the moon swells, we’ll all die.
It’s just inevitable, in fact she’s been
bloated these past few days.
She sucks in the night sky and chews
up the stars between her teeth.
And her belly laugh sings us all to sleep.
When the moon swells, she pines
for the ocean’s touch and she’s reaching
out for him to take her back where she belongs.
Moon from water, earth from water,
we are all in love with liquid, longing
to be blanketed in soundless glide.
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