TWO POEMS
Simile for Its Own Sake
like a ghost ship in space
something see-through
how the moon used to be
something impalpable
untouchable
or when you go to touch it
your hand goes through it
something haunted
it takes something haunted
to haunt you
like a lake
like a half a head of hair
it looks idyllic and holds deep dark secrets
it looks like it has a steady surface
to go right straight through
like bent and broken toes
like the last few turns of a spinning wheel
like a sponge dripping blood
like a tiredlike a broken pillow
