The Man in the Moon Retires to a Small House in a Valley
       

A fleshless man doesn't need much.
At this point in life, the tides of emotion
could easily be replaced. Even a sound
would do, something like a cat scratching its box.
So he moves to the only place in the universe
where people swear they hear the sun approaching.
It sounds like it grows louder in September.
The groans of a distant highway at night
are meteors through the bedroom window.
Sometimes he extends his tongue for a taste as they pass.
He could be any of us when he sleeps;
the thin blackness cradles the skull's luminous horizon,
drool slides from the lips like small words.
Surrounded by mountains, it's precious.
The black and blue sky, it's precious.
Even the sound of the woman looking
through his garbage can, it's precious.
In the morning he wonders why he waited so long.

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Copyright © 2012 Rick Bursky All rights reserved
from Copper Nickel
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission