a wall without a room -
a serving for thirst,
takes the shape of
a glass,
the glass itself
trickles down my arm;
silk across my skin,
then gone.
pooling and soaking in
about my feet to re-emerge
on the moon's nether side.
no longer a satellite.
a ball of stone,
it's central planet, that
gravity's pull,
long dead.
its light, replete but
its loyalty
sustained.
