The telescope told me I must act
Whispering of star falls and moonrise attack
I reflected on the power I lacked
I must net time and hold it back
the home I could lose the ground where I stood
solid as rock shapable as wood
saw me wretched with fear indecisive and torn
was this last of days the final morn?
So I took my sharpest pencil my notebook red
wrapped my head in wool to drown out the dead
in their bottle on the waves above the seabed.
I went to the library to learn from the books
how to save the moon from destructive skyhooks
the learning was crystal clear as a diamond
shards came together for this ignorant vagabond
I knew what to do I knew it was right
to save moon and world I had to take flight
I set my glider to fly from an open window
when the sun’s mellow light fades to soft evening glow
I leapt on board to find rising fresh air
but all that I found was a down draft there
and I fell to the earth as so many more
I resolved to try again but not like before.
A path to nearby mountains was a long weary trek
if I ramped it straight upward I could launch like a jet
but the weight of the world again dragged me down
into glass houses I crashed with a moan
so I built giant steps on which I climbed high
to take the moon down from the sky.
As I ascended clouds hid the way
I clipped their wings with shears of grey
the stars came to guide me as I climbed and climbed
pushing ever upward was all on my mind
until the way was clear the view up ahead
was one of the moon on a black velvet bed
a moon barely rising still held in sleep’s sway
a moon reluctant to hear my story let us say
so I sweet talked that moon with promises and bribes
offering pleasurable time on earth in which to imbibe
the moon gave a yawn looked up and looked down
asked if I was prophet, conman or clown?
requested some proof what I had to say was true
for it could hear only nonsense hard to construe
so I pointed to the black heavens where no starlight glowed
the moon was astonished then concerned and then bowed
I will go with you to spend time on earth
while threats to the skies are beaten and dispersed
I will rise again when the stars once more burn
to light the night sky with starlight returned.
Moon sank into the ocean for a seaside holiday
destruction avoided with the moon at play
the culprits attacked night to find nothing but vacuum
and the cow in the sky scooped them up with a spoon.
This week Mish asked we poets to write from a gallery of surrealist photographer Erik Johansson’s images. Find the prompt here: