Under a Gibbous Moon
When left on my own, my daughters
absent to friends or family,
insomnia finds me 80 miles
away from home.
Kneeling in the desert
dirt, I frame my shot of tumbled
and graffitied rock walls. The camera
as steady on the tripod as my hand.
I’m drinking
less these nights, but still find
sleeping worse than sobriety.
Like the first drink,
though, once I close my eyes
and slip into the stream
of eternity, I am hard
to rouse. I cannot let go of the unknown,
I guess, any more than I can succumb
to it. After midnight, the desert
air holds the heat of the day.
It feels like youth and death.
The broken tooth ruin,
all that’s left of a felled
family’s dream can’t be seen
from the highway even as I watch
headlights and taillights streaking
between Barstow and Tehachapi
through the viewfinder.
The stars, as they fly away
into the universe move faster
than the traffic, but appear still
and will until they fade from the night.
Love the imagery here. Thank you.
I’m glad you enjoyed it.