Moon Heart

Like the moon,
my heart seeks
no constant. It rather
perpetually
abides in tides.

Dark and bright butterflies
group across the
facing hemisphere of
my heart--swarming
in agitated currents
where my flatlands thrust
to mountains, where my lakes
give rise to cities, where my
deserts hold my oceans.

To my mind's eye,
my heart becomes
crescent, half, gibbous
new or full. But my heart
knows no time beyond
or before. Each
mood a movement of
another. The butterflies
float and flit, somehow
unknowing where they are.

You ask if I
can see the whole
even when it's dark.
I say no. But, you can.
You can see where
darks divide and I
don't become the night.
Your eyes are clear enough
to sense where my invisibility
is not the sky.


by jerry gordon
for R
9.2.2014