While I, the night before determined
not to rise before the sun, wake instead before
the moon sets to read your words. Or do I?
Does light from a screen exist, are motions
of zoom and focus by a somnambulant
real if not documented, captured?
Must I wait until I truly rise to learn
your words do remain, that the moon
kissed the horizon before my eyes?
Or will I wake to find nothing has changed
as I break the skin to peel back in segments
what was only a dream all along?
This poem was inspired by “somnambulant,” by grapeling.
Images: super moon, 5:00am CST, 07 May 2020
(click images for larger view in new tab)