in the margin between the sun and moon
spending so much time wiping the drip 
                                                     drops of others

how you wonder … when you will let yourself

in the sun saturating
          of you
   blues and purples


into the muddy sky because you have the  l o n g e v i t y 


tell the opaque spaces you are unavailable
light is calling and you must get home 

                  it is getting late

you have to make it back for the moon to
pinch your shoulder blades reminding you 
it is real
this luminescence of yours  

back and       forth 
          back            with force
jesting with the sun  
                             and moon

Paris Jessie (they/she) is a black, queer writer and budding creative. She is a moon enthusiast rooted in peculiarities. Find more at