Moon Song 

Necklace
I pinched metal between my thumb and forefinger,
and yanked
until my spine
s
l
o
p
e
d
and my forehead pressed against the carpet and
ached
with the
a
r
c
h
of my vertebrae.
I hung
myself

and hung the necklace
from myself. Leaving me
dangling,
until the etched metal etched
a strict tan line
into my collarbone.
And protected what's left of me
from the sun. The son
that I heard
had to be buried.
I hung
from her lips
“like the
Gardens of Babylon”
Giving and
taking
The Moon.
I tried to comfort me
with the
weight

of a 13 and a skinned hand and some
mountain
range.
on the chain
whose clasp
inches towards my heart
slower
and is turned
Away.
I pressed a song
into my forehead, forefinger, and necklace. A song
quieter now
a song
for
The Moon.