a cup of earl grey and the rain
never seems to end, always there
just like the stars
we saw that night, following the Big Dipper —
upside down, you said —
like pouring water into the horizon, bleeding
into midnight clouds.
I cupped my hands to catch the rain
and none came.
but I heard you ask a question that
splinters when I try to remember
and the moon is still round, still glowing,
arms brush, breaths soft
everything with less meaning than in books
there’s only one-way disappointment.
at least the moon is still round,
still perfect, still cracked,