James B. Christian Poems

I once touched the moon! After a lifetime of chasing her, rising to greet her, and falling at her retreat.
I finally touched the moon! After a lifetime of longing for her, I had her, I this forlorn cad.
I once touched the moon… And after a lifetime, I'll still miss her, still dream of her.
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… It was her eyes, like blue burning car wrecks,
Tragedies you couldn't look away from.
A girl whose face is a blur but whose name lingers on my tongue like bitter medicine…
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I screamed for what seemed like ages but was never heard.
I frantically tried to salvage the pieces from the ground.
But they were already trampled and crushed.
She watched for what seemed like only moments and then drew near.
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Simply stated, a knife once twisted and set amid bone, cannot be removed without exasperating the wound.
Neither stitch nor suture will mend the pain scored in flesh and mind.
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As children we feared the monsters that hid under or beds.
We grew out of that fear,
Leaving us prey to the monsters that sleet beside us, IN our beds.
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