I’ve always wanted to be the moon that eclipses the sun,
the eyelid that winks and collapses the earth into darkness.
I’ve wanted for us to fall too, like an unrolling curtain,
like how the night falls slowing when the sun bends
onto the horizon like a pew, and we look towards the moon
like an altar.
I’ve wanted for you to praise me as we lie blanketed,
talking in tongues, living and dying and living religiously
like dawn, like dusk, like dawn. But, somehow
the air knows how to intercept us, it knows how to pull us
apart, until we align for a moment,
for a lunar eclipse.