by Lydia Venus Valentine

How lucky we are that the moon is too
High for me to reach, and that I am so
       stuck on this earth, my feet buried
In soil and red Georgia clay. If persistence
Is greedy, then my never ending de-
sire to tear the moon from the sky
Makes me a glutton because I’m of the
Belief that the prettiest things should only
Be seen by those I love the most.
How lucky we are that instead, I have opted for
Memorizing the faces of my friends
       as if they were their own moon phases, a little journal
       created
Of labeled expressions: in which the eye-
       brows wax & wane, how stances I know too well
Change with every passing season. I’ll let
The moon stay in her spot for a few more
       nights because as it turns out,
There’s a lot more beauty in the faces
Of others & what’s the moon more than a
       hunk of stone, anyway?

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Lydia Venus Valentine is a black trans + lesbian poet currently located in New York. His poetry varies from topic to topic, but the inspiration of their friends and experiences, as well as living as a queer person, always remains the same.