Tom Thompson

Some Moon

False moon. Puncture moon. Moon chewed blind
while you’re coughing with night-tightened fingers.
Perilous moon. Private moon. Graphic moon.
Moon’s raw-cheese colors running
down the chin and chest. Marigold moon
fever-drunk and spilling spreads over
your lap and down through the shoes.
Cut-of-a-moon tear-shaped moon
moon dyed and swelling but still
only part money. Moon-whelp of a man
with one eye for battle
and one on the bed. Starched skin at the elbows
a pinch at the joint. Leathery
and lathered. Cross-legged and horny.
Bleeding moon glue. Moon cement
refusing to set. “You moon surrender,”
you mumble to noon of a bubble in water.