By John Horvath Jr.
Artwork by Alli Rowe
Where we escape imprisons us
Father, I wake to find you in the moon’s dark side
mysterious and never speaking of letting me see
where you’ve made another home
Are you waiting for me and my babies
or have you someone from the past
you once loved to love again
Some nights I think the halo round the moon
is the wake of a ship on which you sail
to yet another port and I shall never follow
Always a homeland away, always this leaving behind
loved ones and the language of loved ones–
you shall not rest:
The moon is a cold place in my heart.