I.A.L.G.

I was formed beneath the footsteps of the retreating
I spent nearly twenty evenings below the Sun, below the Moon

When the Moon connects the dots to all that it has lost
Only lovers now flock to it
Only shaking hands give it praise

When the Sun forgets itself
When the morning passes over
Every eyelid stops to lower in praise
Every voice shall rise to meet

I watched a man leaving everything
Not just house and home but the soil it was built on
He knew anything could be like a plastic ring
He caught the refrences. And he fell.
But I caught his ankles still

Now we sit at the dinner table, passing plates
Clockwise, quiet, lowered eyes and heightened gazes
Only Alice knows the way to me and I
Would stop the rain from falling for her
If the Moon would pay me any mind.