The Fool
If I could paint,
this is what I would paint tonight:
A great black dog leaping across the sky,
body stretched the way a dog’s body stretches
in the moment during running
when all its paws have left the ground,
the moment when it decides against gravity,
but instead to reach for the full moon,
take it in its jaws and hold on tight
while the stars stream off its fur like water.
Now I see there is a person, too,
standing on its back like a circus performer,
arms outstretched for balance,
a wild grin on their face.
I am not the performer,
not the dog, the moon, or even the painter.
Yet here I am, standing in the moonlight,
grinning like a fool.
