COLLECTIVE POETRY: ROUND 8

On Wednesdays, I post a photograph on my Rasjacobson Art Facebook Page and ask people to add a single line of poetry in the comments from which I attempt to create a cohesive piece of writing. This week’s collective poem came slower than usual, and I didn’t use every line offered by participants. Inspired by last month’s harvest moon and unrequited love, this piece represents the combined efforts of nine people. Many thanks to everyone who participated.

I KNOW WHY DOGS HOWL AT THE MOON

His laugh, the way

He squeezes his eyes shut

When something is funny

Almost as if in pain

Yesterday I wanted to speak of it,

In the courtyard

At midnight, the moon

Locked in itself, calling

To our wild side, my werewolf self

there in the sky, ghosts

Splitting, our heads looking up

Invisibly walking by

The chemistry between us

A monster come to dinner

Huge & hovering

Suspended mid-air

Like an uncatchable ball

My head exploding

A private sledgehammer

Heavy & loaded with grief,

His heart illegible and scrawled

With disbelief.

Face me in the dark.

See me

is what I want.

What he cannot give.

Our knees touch, but

Our fingers are pruning.

The trees dying in front of us.

A faucet drips.

And he is barefoot in the grass

Under the glow

His body dancing away from me,

Wild and slow.

It is time to return

to a safer distance.

Oh, two-faced moon,

there are thousands

Of miles between us,

that fine line

between faith & madness.