The unmoving moon has looked like garlic for four days
I'll be kissing the silence and I'll notice it
Tomorrow night, I'm sure I'll see it again if I pay attention
If I decide to sneak out, trusting the word of your brown jacket to keep me warm
Or warmed, by the cider I'm drinking with all these bright ladies
They listen gently and know me only recently,
Only the newest words I'm saying.
And all these guitars that I'm playing
And all these days spent praying
For distraction, for personal peace
To understand why you stopped loving me.

I'm not unpacking my suitcase until I know what happened
Until my last poem about you feels written by somebody else,
Until I can sing without sobbing
And walk to class without stopping
And take a step without rocking.

Those bright ladies help me stay up so late that I forget you
They burn me down with their warm palms and pink curtains
Hold down the fort when the window bangs open
Raise the bridge when the water gets high
And in the morning, who are they?

The past week made me crooked
I will not straighten out anytime soon
I need to bend upside down until I can see for myself that I am whole
That water up to my neck will not leak through.

And the moon isn't unmoving,
It's just patient in motion
It fattens out slowly
Until it's new.