Lodestar Quarterly

Lodestar Quarterly
Figure reaching for a star Issue 17 • Spring 2006 • Poetry


One Night in the Mountains, Staring Stoned at the Moon

Trebor Healey

Oh, what I see in the moon!
The man,
definitely 1930s
The woman,
with her look of surprised shock,
a curl of hair in her mouth
-- No, it's a porn film!
She's about to take it in!
She's changed!
Oh, what other worlds in the keyhole of the moon!

There's a Hawaiian prince in full headgear,
the Napali coast behind him,
emerald mountains and surf
in black and white
He's not so different from the viceroy's son
in uniform and cap
with that colonial seal of authority behind him

And the smiling Jewish father
who died on TWA Flight 800 over Long Island
The shadows below his nose
his calm, contented smile
The perfect afternoon light on his half-portrait, half-profile
grinning-happiness-of-being-loved photo in a silver frame
I know children somewhere, and a wife, have lost their man
and he's on the piano now

Oh, the things I've seen in the moon!

The British in India with sari-ed throngs in the background
A maharishi and his disciples
U.S. Naval Officers
with beautiful Hawaiian scenery behind them

A dog, with a spot on one eye
like the one in Little Rascals
at the front doorstep
with the newspaper in his mouth
And a little spotted black and white kitten in the flower bed

It's a baby dolphin
in the amniotic sac!

The moon

Over cities, forests, oceans, murders and parades
The things she sees!
I can tell she plucks her eyebrows
So 1930s
And maybe that's just a microphone she seduces

She does shine in stagelights
with all that nightclub lounge drink-clinking black around her
She's a star!

But she isn't! -- we all know she's a round rock

She's got sideburns now!
It's Phil Collins as a bald cherub!
Innocent and crooning
She's so full of herself
The little girl moon doing good
Little shape-shifting portal to the light beyond all the black

It's so choral, the way she sings
Rosy cheeks and chin cherubic
The moon's a little cherub with no wings
because there's science now
Little cherubs pulled by gravity through the time warps of space
Forces uncontrollable
Sex, greed, fear and desire
The things she sees!
The things she must feel!
Pulling her around in earthly circles
She's a socialite in orbit!

'Help!, Help!' she cries
wingless and spinning like a top
across the celestial black slate dance floor
patterned with a shattered strobe
'Help!, Help!' she cries
begging that the earth and all of us
keep our safe distance
as we laugh:
Girl's scared of a carnival ride!

I throw out my arms
and something pulls me
like an anxious little child by the arm
And we dance swing, round and round
The moon and I
It's definitely 1930s
black and white
A photo
lost in time
An old phonograph with a scratchy song
We're little babies in each others arms
with big blue searching eyes

Oh the things I've seen in the moon
and the moon in me!

Trebor Healey is the author of the 2004 Ferro-Grumley and Violet Quill award-winning novel Through It Came Bright Colors. His poetry collection Sweet Son of Pan is due out from Suspect Thoughts Press in June 2006, and a short story collection, A Perfect Scar and Other Stories, is will be released by Harrington Park Press in 2007. Trebor lives in Los Angeles where he is at work on his second novel. www.treborhealey.com.

Go To: Issue 17 or Lodestar Quarterly home page