Self-Portrait as the Moon in my Child’s Picture Books by Ben Michelman
Associate poetry editor Jessica Hudson on today’s bonus poem: With a gentle nod to Goodnight Moon, Michelman’s poem reflects not only the nightly satellite but also the earnest contemplations of a life lived in orbit around another being, with all the worries, wishes, and wonders that entails.
Self-Portrait as the Moon in my Child’s Picture Books
I am tired
of the cycle—of crescent-flipping
between stories, ossifying as I wait for you to turn
to me. So often drawn full, but rarely made new: let me be
weightless; let me turn away my light, and watch your pages
thud black as watermelon seeds. Don’t you see—I am breath
to the bunnies below? I am more than the sun’s reflector,
more than spotlight: Talon. Tongue. Teacher. Hatching worlds
for you. Find me outside of your fiction: nose the window,
and let my eggshell glow swamp your face. Speak me—
not sound-me-out, but like a night terror. Feel
how I grip greedy oceans, pull them
so hard they carve arteries
into sand.
Ben Michelman is a father, husband, teacher, and poet in Durham, North Carolina. His work has appeared in Up the Staircase, Spillway, Barrelhouse, and elsewhere.
