John Grey
The curtain parts like a grin
but night hangs back,
milky at the tip of glass
where it merges with broken light,
and that face glaring from
the full moon could be hers,
granite-eyed, smug-lipped,
armed with hate,
though I’ll know better
when the darkness hugs
those rancid cheeks,
eats away its assuredness,
reduces it to a thin crescent,
a sideways smile
pinned to the heavens,
trapped by its own joke.
John Grey is an Australian poet and U. S. resident. He has been recently published in Examined Life Journal, Studio One, and Columbia Review, with work upcoming in Leading Edge, Poetry East, and Midwest Quarterly.