Jon Nakapalau

the moon is laughing at me

for wanting you so - pale light falling,
into pools of forgetfulness, seeping...

tinged with blue shadows, tripping into silence -
that echo your love was all that I longed for,

never considering that the foundation
of desire is often hewed from abandoned quarries,

but the moon knew this,
and silent she promised to keep

this sad secret told to the night wind,
till ebb of wanting forced me to wander

along a slate horizon, pressed and still,
there the echo of dreams faded;

I will sleep as morning shines on,
in a blanket of dew mixed with tears.