Behind whimpering clouds
Relieved from the gaze of
Lamps and rooftops
She must be round and plump
With her earth-born goddess
And her magical rabbit
With a Sisyphus
And an undying tree
She must squint at the sun
Blinded from her better reflections
On unscattered clouds
From remote messages
Sent before she was born
She would rather put on some shades
Or hide her face
But that would be
Half a moon away
She would tune in to a blue rock
To its vibes and tides
To occasional chatters
She would think with the back of her head
Of people imagined
With a verse about her.
- 9/10/2022 at Carrboro, a cloudy, rainy midautumn festival.
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