Not impossible

They said the green island turned red
but it was like Mars -which looks more
a rusty brown. Across town, I saw the tunnel
had cracked green tiles and I wondered
if parts of earth have sympathy pains-
like earthquakes in one place
and rains in another- that may be related
beyond air currents and geological shifts.

It’s not impossible. Because my heart
has learned to keep time with a poet
outside my valley and the moon
keeps getting larger in the window.
Love, I want to say, you are my moon,
growing larger in my landscape
but it’s hard to know if he can hear
over the cracking earth and windy nights.

2 thoughts on “Not impossible

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