Full Moon

It does not matter that your light is kept outside my bedroom by thick drapes : you know of other ways to make me feel your pull.

I toss and turn, turn and toss. So much so I probably could roll over to you if I was space-ready. But I am not, so I grab my phone and flick its screen on; fool.

---

I read and play and watch — with subtitles on and sound off so as to not wake the Boyfriend up. Oh, because sleeping he does indeed, the Happy Beast! Though he tosses around quite a bit, Full Moon you do not seem to grab his sleep out of his grasp as much as you do mine out of… mine.

---

What evolution twerk have we lost that we lie awake from your astronomical pull? Or, on the contrary, are only countryside dwellers like me afflicted by a leftover Darwinism while city sleepers snore away, unaware of your powers? Was it ever an advantage to our ancestors? Is it a blip in the Matrix? What? Why?

Oh, what a fool I was, thinking I could go to bed calmly on a night as such!

---

So I write. Write though my hands are asleep for my head is not.

---

Get up for water. A glance at you from the kitchen window.

Almost as bright as day, how the snow gleams under your brightness.

---

Wondrous.

---

Please, revolve away to your nadir and let me sleep, won’t you?