I sat down at my desk to write a poem. The thing is — I didn’t know what I wanted to write about. So I asked my roommate.
“Hey, Emily. What should I write my poem about?”
“Uh … the moon … is made of peanut butter … a theory.”
Well … friends, I did it. I asked her, and she gave me an answer. I was now obligated to use this answer to make a poem, and I did.
Thanks, Emily. I wouldn’t have written this without your input ….
Please enjoy. ❤
The Moon is Made of Peanut Butter: A Theory
I’ve been told to look to the
moon when I’m feeling lonely—
other lonely people are already
s t a r i n g
at the luminescent
r o c k that r i n g s around earth.
I wonder if the moon is
made of peanut butter.
A man I now pretend I do not know
sat on the ledge of his terrace after
a r o u g h b r e a k u p .
There were swarming
gnats around the peanut
butter he ate with a
spoon taken home from
a local frozen yogurt
place—the only place
in town to take a date.
The moon reflected in his
irises, as he stared, shoving spoonful after
spoonful into his mouth, despite how much had
caked under his tongue.
of the taste of air—the
moon the only witness
to a heart breaking
in between remedies
(On particularly lonely nights I wonder if the moon is made of peanut butter.)
My best friend, she says
peanut butter is the only way
to feel less lonely.
stuck to the roof
of mouths that just want
t o i n h a l e
clearly for once
because the loneliness is too much
just like the air on the moon is
n e v e r e n o u g h.
The distraction of it—the taste and smell
of peanut butter is a comfort that
can’t be shaken away. It’s always
h e r e
even when The Moon is hiding from her lover
on the other side of my world.
The creation of this poem took longer than usual … but that’s okay. It’s interesting enough to be worth it.
As always, thanks for reading! I hope all of you each have days better than usual.