we basically had to rebuild the moon.
the old girl had lost her edge.
no one had been up there in years,
those nice boys no longer call.
they took her out, courted her sweetly
in the end, they just left her hanging
untouched as a president’s widow.
we basically had to rebrand the moon
her songs no longer scan
we’re ashamed to hear her sing of us
of how she was our finest hour
they recall her as the resting place
of an eagle and a stiff starry rag
that embarrassment of our glories
we basically had to reboot the moon
she reminds us too much of science
and in these times of faith and flutter
science means we have to own our doubts.
god wants back his mystery
so she sits, an unposeable question
a bruise of our hubris on the sky.
we basically had to remix the moon
she doesn’t play with key demographics
the lovers are lost, the poets all dead
even the lunatics are all backslidin’ and equivocatin’
so she waits there,
pretty as a Texas girl
with a cast on a broken leg.