Myopia

Myopia I filter through the grains of sand searching for answers. Did God really create the heavens and earth? The ocean air stings, sharp as a jellyfish tentacle. Tears roll down my cheeks, my eyes struggle to focus, yet I see you, in that string bikini, the one I bought for you at Macy’s, pink as salt water taffy, your breasts taut as an upwind spinnaker. You are Aphrodite, born of sea foam. A perfectly symmetrical starfish, washed ashore from a distant galaxy, glimmering in the morning sun like a speck of gold. You are the Earth, rotating on its axis, And I, the man in the moon. Living in the shadow of your lunar eclipse.