I Refuse to Look at the Moon
I need water and sleep,
and the sound of radiotronic
dogs barking,
to stop.
I need to slide my bra
from beneath two shirts
out the right arm hole.
I need the hum of night
to breathe less loudly
and the death of Beethoven’s 9th
to cease its crescendo
in the outer reaches
of my frontal lobe.
I need my retinas
to forget the color blue,
forget there are endings
always skirting beginnings.
I need to say a prayer
for the dying.
©2021 Aleathia Drehmer All rights reserved.

Aleathia Drehmer was the editor of Durable Goods and In Between Altered States. She spends most of her time writing novels, but has recently published poems in Anti-Heroin Chic, Fragmented Lines, South Shore Review, and Heroin Love Songs. She had upcoming work in Impspired Magazine.
http://www.aleathiadrehmer.com
Nice one
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So Good!!!!
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