God Lives on the Moon
God smiles: so says the cracked face of the moon.
I sit in a dirt cocoon, I watch this smiling moon.
My heart breaks each time the blue sky
hue fades to black, evening slaughtered by the moon.
Once, under a country night of stars, you kissed me
still, my heart waits for you like I wait for the moon.
My children fidget on the carpet, each morning at
school, their eyes are as full and as bright as moons.
No language will ever be enough: beauty
counts its victims by light of the moon.
I wake each morning to watch the last bit of moon.
I am a poet: a watcher of God, a loon of the moon.
Megan Pinto is an MFA Candidate at the MFA Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College.