Mr. Fixit Tries to Spackle the Moon


Too soon,
he realizes it’s use
-less; she’s born
…….too many
scars. And besides,
she’s shrinking again.
Waning until she’s
weightless, wantless,
willed and whiled
to sky.

Ask him why
he keeps at it,
and he’ll tell you this:
240 million light years,
and one star-stung


Prompted by Poetic Asides.

This entry was posted in moon poems, poetic asides poems and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Mr. Fixit Tries to Spackle the Moon

  1. Oh! love the title and end. so good

  2. Mandie Hines says:

    I think one of the things that draws me to your poetry is your use of words and images that I find particularly interesting. Like moon and stars, which appear in this poem. And ocean and salt, which appeared in the first poem I read of yours, “Summer Salt.” Of course there are many other words and images you frequent that I am particularly fond of, but those are the ones I chose for this comment. Have a wonderful day!

  3. lynn__ says:

    Made me smile, De… thanks

  4. Sherry Marr says:

    Wow! That is spectacular, De! Spack-tacular? I adore it.

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