i don’t believe

The love songs 

Or troubadours

Who spin fiction from the moon

Just a rock in the sky

Just a bird on a string

Just a pebble skipped across

This cold, dark body

Of water, of sky

Light all reflective and blue

Constant unrequited

Face toward a hidden

Sun,

All light and warmth

Shaking surprise 

At the daylit retelling

All our justified fears,

Spectral lunar 

Ghost stories

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