In which the poet frets about a distance that has yet to occur
Look – from my position
here on the ground floor of earth,
sometimes I think I could wear
the crescent moon as a crown,
or use the gibbous moon to gather blackberries,
or plaster the full moon across my face,
poke out eye holes and a nose hole, and
use it as a ghost mask on Halloween.
And so it is
from this pocket of logic
that I am hoping you never think
my head could be a teacup
or my arms two moss-covered
twigs, or my thighs postcards –
because almost anything
can appear small
if you are far enough away from it.
here on the ground floor of earth,
sometimes I think I could wear
the crescent moon as a crown,
or use the gibbous moon to gather blackberries,
or plaster the full moon across my face,
poke out eye holes and a nose hole, and
use it as a ghost mask on Halloween.
And so it is
from this pocket of logic
that I am hoping you never think
my head could be a teacup
or my arms two moss-covered
twigs, or my thighs postcards –
because almost anything
can appear small
if you are far enough away from it.
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Erin SchallmoserErin Schallmoser (she/her) is a poet and writer living in the Pacific Northwest. Her work can be found in Nurture, Paperbark, Catchwater, and elsewhere. She is the founder and editor-in-chief of Gastropoda.
Website // erinschallmoser.com Twitter // @dialogofadream Instagram // @dialogofadream |