I chased a fat half moon across Wyoming
Stealing through the state on an oil black I-80
Until she sank
too full to grasp,
just beyond the street lamps of Green River.
I’d hoped to catch her
past Evanston,
thinking I could hold her in my hands
but I took too long in Cheyenne
driving past my parent’s house
and could not drive off
the edge of the world.
Vodka washed away my childhood
and the sunrise came while I was sleeping
chasing moonbeams through my fingertips
like love without a home
Dex is a poet and former USMC Military Police Officer. You can follow her here.
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