Leslie Philibert Poems
The Night The Moon Got Stolen
In the night the moon got stolen
lunatics shook their fists at empty heavens,
cats stared at holes in the dark night
and seas turned into lakes, tides refused,
And songwriters hit the wrong keys
while lovers went home for an early night,
words were not whispered in ears nor
arms thrown across shoulders in first joy.
Have no fear for this lost face in the sky,
the lady that shimmers over standing water.
Aurora will bring the slow return of dawn,
Libertas will free this stolen moonlight.
When the silence is as taut as a violin string
the rest awaits as you climb past the invitation
of an open window, your day in shopping bags
that redden the joints of your hands, as if you
wait helpless at a busy junction, the heavy trucks
that throw warmth and grit in your face,
this is graceless, like worn slippers under a hospital bed