“Bicentennial moon tree marker” by David Victor is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0
Washington Square Park, Philadelphia
This used to be a Night Market
for body parts (spectral physicians
still pick through piles of criminals
under the Moon Tree). We sit above
thousands of bones, sculpting
stories of passerbyers, speculate
how many of them determine
who we are (friends, sisters, lovers,
others), measuring our distance,
proximity of fingertips.
A twosome whose lazy pedals
move in unison
mirror their union: ease of synchronicity.
Another couple: half carried piggyback,
smiles widen like celestial gleams and
rival pathway lamplight, reflect back to the sky
their eternal truth about lovers:
we make constellations out of carbon,
create something complete from pieces,
starting at the spark of stars,
starting at these holy bones.
Alison Lubar teaches high school English by day and yoga by night. They are a queer, nonbinary femme of color whose life work (aside from wordsmithing) has evolved into bringing mindfulness practices, and sometimes even poetry, to young people. Most recently, their work has been published by or is forthcoming with Moonstone Press, New York Quarterly, and Sinister Wisdom; you can find most published work at http://alisonlubar.com/.