hunting you, a thousand moons

I

the froth of a jet plane draws a new horizon across the sky, and
i feel here, where my fingers rest on your chest, that this moment is another world
so i count one,
one thousand two one thousand three one thousand four
this yellow hole drills through the sky,
drinks in the sky
the same way i could drink in the cream of the moon
this yellow
the way i could drink in this yellow

II

but first the moon began as a rose,
bloomed in the sky as sudden
as the snow chills my bones
first
the moon stole the sky, swollen
and hid everything behind tree branches

III

these are words i can’t help but love:
cream, consume, thrive, divine, pride

IV

i run empty streets to the cemetery,
scramble across graves to reach this hilltop,
crust my knees in ice to reach the sky
crust my eyes in crystals to see this dusty blue
this Christmas-window moon
to another world.

V

i laugh without reason

VI

you tell me you’ve lost the horizon
you’ve lost the moon
and so you go on a scavenger hunt

VII

look closer to the way your eyes
filter the moon through cheese cloth,
construct halos from all the dreams you’ve misplaced
all the evolutions you’ve doubted
the evolution of this love

VIII

i tell you this loss
is only time
is only surreality
every moment is a different moon
and tonight i have already seen one,
one thousand five one thousand six one thousand seven

IX

from this stone i sit
i wonder if we are watching the same moon,
this fading-white, shrinking void
i wonder if we are hunting the same moons
moon
i wonder if we are hunting
i wonder if we are hunting
the same love

—By Emma Fuchs