Souvenir

Every night, we take the moon home. Split it in half, and tuck it away beneath our ribs for safe keeping. I always wince, because of bruises that never heal but her smile kills that pain, and when we get home we get to dance under the same light that led us to each other, fashioning our love to the ceiling above, so it’s shine can light the only world that matters to us anymore. When we get home, the rest goes dark, and Earth’s rotation adapts, forced to synchronize with the steps of our feet across the only real living room. She says she’ll give it back when I decide the pain is no longer worth walks in the shade of rain. t e a s ing me with the zap of lightning’s charm. But you see, this burdened cage of love’s misery is a metronome’s swing to the beat of infinity. And so I press play on the heart of this, my favorite song and once again, hold out my hand..and wait for her to take my pain away. -James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.