The Runner’s Moon

Deep within the swiftness

The beating heart of a runner 

Celebrates a flooding solitude

I pause to sit, eying the expanse

Peeling sticky legs off slats of hot metal

One by one, repeating the motion

A voice tells me I’m turned the wrong way for sunset

I laugh and nod ahead, knowing

I’m here for the moonrise.

I become aware, 

While the sky burns magnificent pink above my head,

That you are sitting in darkness.

But now we both have the moon.

The one you can look straight into

The one your eyes won’t flee from to save themselves.

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