Driving the Moon

When I was five,

I dreamt my father

Had to go away

to take a job

driving the moon.

Inside the celestial orb,

clockwork gears and a

bicycle seat

with golden pedals

comprised his office desk

Once he left,

My siblings and I would watch

For daylight moons-

In the backyard,

we would stretch out our arms wide,

turn our heads to the sky

And scream for him

To notice us at last.