If night, there will be moon.
If moon, it must be full.
If moon is full, there must be howling.
If I’m writing about moon over mountain,
my belly, my throat,
must be full.
When the moon full over the mountain, we swoon,
laughing in each other,
feel the swoon moon overhead,
laughing us, know mountains lurk around us,
shoulders shaking, swooning, drunk on moonlight.
If there’s a word worth saying, it’s worth saying thrice—
Moon, moon, moon.
Moon over the mountains,
over us, over our howling bellies,
over our full throats.
Moon town, mounted town,
Mountain town, mountain, and tainted valley—
Here we are.
Here we are asking,
here we telling,
here we begging:
Cicada Musselman has been involved in the Nederland/ Boulder-based poetry community Beyond Academia Free Skool for 5+ years. She co-edited their Love Shovel Review #6 and she was the BAFS Summer Poetry Camp Director for both 2016 and 2017. She just moved to an intentional community in upstate New York. Follow her future endeavors and find her poetry, collage, travel recommendations, and kitchen witchery on Instagram @cicadathebug.
Featured Image: vct310