the moon
it sits on a dark black perch
suspended among the stars,
it watches every night
as people put on
masks and cloudy capes.
it doesn't say a word,
advice or other.
it just sits and sits and sits.
until finally thrown by the sun
when morning steals
its shadowy throne,
but the moon doesn't sigh,
doesn't pout,
doesn't cry,
even when it watches
thousands die,
even when it watches you weep,
the moon still does nothing,
because the moon
is a floating pebble
and floating rocks
don't cry
11