Friend, the moon
DS Maolalai
it's only when you try
taking photos you see it--
the eye is imperfect,
seeing also the soul
(as it does) of the thing
and not only the surface
and image. friend,
the moon truly
is dull as it shows
on your phonescreen--a ball,
smudged and distant
because cameras can’t breathe--
do not feel what the moon
passes into you; the mozzarella
wispiness, like cobwebs
on clouds and the object so distant,
so close. they do not see the countryside
when you're hiking and pause
and the sun crawls like armies, red-orange
on a surface which is millions
of things in your mind. distant shadows
making texture with sunk
depths of field. the hint
of a badger. the hint of a style
in the world. it is perfectly made,
this machine, as a world is
which doesn't cause grandeur.
a world without you in it: the eye
which makes things look impressive
in the absence of a god
doing his job.
DS Maolalai has been nominated eleven times for Best of the Net, eight for the Pushcart Prize and once for the Forward Prize. His poetry has been released in three collections, most recently Sad Havoc Among the Birds (Turas Press, 2019) and Noble Rot (Turas Press, 2022).