Emporium on Oasis Edge
Written: July 22, 2026 for a contest sponsored by Brian Strand
************
We sit at this emporium
on the outskirts of the oasis;
I watch you
while your eyes inhabit the moon.
Tell me—what forgotten tide
is tugging at your silence?
mine,
or the phantom
wearing your heartbeat,
as cedar smoke cleaves to your coat?
The night offers
no reply.
Every moonrise
it buttons brief memories, tight as cold stone,
as dew phosphoresces on iron rails
meanwhile,
your discarded book drinks darkness...
Only the window holds our
two reflections, never touching.
So—
I am living on your borrowed light,
gathering myself from evanishing warmth
your gaze forgets to retain—
silver by sepulchral slate piece,
salt whitening the shoreline.
I become a constellation
linking stars and tears,
luminous enough to guide the lost.
Yet still, the silver rim
of your cup remains.
It proves even borrowed moons
leave tides behind,
washing over the stagnant coffee left between us.
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