Moon calendar

Painting by Donna Cassaro Hughes

You can transliterate
what is opaque and muddy
beneath the cleavage.
There is no intention of hiding
her past boundaries or
unmapped spirals.

But what will be there
as the framed past yawns?

He touched her extremes
and closed her off like a parenthesis,
leaving suspensions points between
Holly and Gerry, or maybe seasons and
the elasticity of forever.

It takes courage to want
the merry-go-around to go faster
and raise your hands in the air
to hold happiness.

Somebody calls her little butterfly.
I don't know if it is a lapse
but she doesn't know she can
weave hopeful tapestries.
-she doesn't know anything anymore-

You could be a radiant river,
or a nocturnal whisper when
details are anticipated,
but you will never be more than a conjecture.
She never allows November to begin again.

Karla Bardanza

Copyright©Karla Bardanza 2012

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