The Man in the Moon
I am watching the moon
when I bump into a man with just a mouth
in the middle of his face.
This mouth—grins—and asks for a light.
Is this some kind of a joke? I ask.
He twists and opens his ancient mouth
into the shape of a waiting grave.
I stand looking into nothing.
I don’t know why or for what reason
but I suddenly recall a childhood
memory—a dream, or perhaps both.
I can’t be sure—maybe it is now I dream.
A dream of such pure white snow
it clings like a freezing shroud
to the windward side of a young girl’s face.
Passing me on the street she smiles
so sweet a smile—its memory & sweetness
has lasted all of my days.
“Have you a light?” the mouth demands.
My hand, under a broken street lamp,
trembles & the flame—ethereal—surges.
Just before everything goes dark
something funny happens to the moon.
It tilts at a crazy angle as the universe
pours through a rip in the sky.
Steve De France is a widely published poet, playwright and essayist both in America and in Great Britain. He has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize in Poetry in 2002, 2003 & 2006.