The Final Moon

The night has an unexpected aftertaste
Perhaps I’m just like playing the same little violin?
I’m sure you think so
Tonight this August is focused like a collapsing star
And in the eye
Our words can find no escape
There is no,
As so many times before
A place to
Pass righted
The physics of two objects
Falling in opposite directions
By letting us share the salty droplets
On a humid night
Suspended animation
Your hand
So just a part of mine.Tonight there is
No looking away from the road
No hope of sanctuary
Down that well loved old path
Or the untraveled.
Only loss
Only us
Only two estranged wolves
Lost in their bedroom
Barking at a sixty-watt moon.