The Moon

Mama taught me that God holds the whole world in his hands

So what if instead of the moon there is a hole in the sky?
 
And there is no one-step-for-man whitish land

Perhaps God's thumb pokes through the hole up high?

So when these men touch the craggy peaks of the moon,

They're only feelin the wrinkles of God's skin,

His white light burstin from a finger as night fades soon,

And when it leaves in mornin' it's only cuz God's gotta scratch his chin. 






-anna sluder 

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