I felt a poem coming at 2 am
accompanying a bright moon
dramatically revealing herself
an unearthly moment
crashing into a mundane one
as my dog relieved himself
on the scrubby apartment grass
I vigorously shook myself off
like a mutt coming out of water
all the while thinking
This must be rebirth
happening again.
and all the things I’ve fought so hard for
fall to the ground in droplets and evaporate
I feel a pulsating heat
rush out from the inside of me
cascading over my tingling skin
“What if waking up is the only thing worth pursuing?”
the moon posed a question
as the clouds swirled around her
showing off her talent
in visual effects
I want to live in a certain world
I think
but faux certainty turns magic
to numbers and weather forecasts
I want so badly to know what comes next
yet I get mad at spoiler alerts
and bored when the ending is obvious
my lists and play-by-plays
settle my weary churning mind
only for a moment
before it rudely demands
the next thing
“What if the timeline doesn’t matter because
Real Life waits outside of it?”
the moon interrupted my musing
as my dog tugged at arm
and that’s when I saw it:
here and now
there and then
bleeding into one brilliant piece of art
hung on a starry wall
between a row of
my rebirth certificates
and this poem
brookelouvier.com 
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