somewhere,
between the
Blue Moon and the
Super Moon,
life exploded
a game of chance
in one wild revolution,
the phases voiced a challenge,
"Listen humans, to my signs,
for I am moon"
flew tornadic into the air
with gusto, fury,
diamonds, hearts, spades,
clubs, all in a swirl,
gaining momentum, hitting their mark,
making a play,
or,
landing silently on the Summer grass,
love notes lost to an egg timer's heavy hand
a fools game
well before her queenship
disappeared behind the sun,
eclipsing for 72 reddened minutes,
her smile extending
into an incandescent grin,
a sign, doomsayers claimed
to mark the end
she, whispered,
"hush, you're okay,
look up,
the sky, it's still there,
punctuated by
black and mauve, gold and sapphire,
all colors at once,
and clouds, so many clouds,"
the game closed
players shifted,
whirlwinds settled,
cards landed where
they're going to lie,
and as poker faces brush lips
with the moon,
the orb absorbs their power,
new love,
strong, poetic,
ripe and tomato red,
there's no question,
no answer,
in one wild moon to moon experience,
the game changed,
and not by chance
