Is the Sun
Smaller Than the Moon?
by Francine DuBois
To all the girls I've loved before, but not anymore
I was crushed in fourth grade
When I learned the moon didn't have its own luminosity,
But that the light really came from the sun.
It made Diana a fool,
A piece of glitter needing a light source,
A piece of foil left behind by careless campers.
Until that point, I had wanted to be the moon,
Surrounded by sparkly shimmers of light,
A silent presence through the darkness.
It was hard to sleep that night, knowing the sun was still there,
Francine's Version -- Hezekiah's Version -- Inspiration
Only a mirror image perhaps, like those awful convex silver circles
In the corners of the ceiling at 7-11. The moon was no longer
A confidant, but a snotty tattletale . . . and I could never trust women
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