by Dennis Loranger
Sometimes, on rare clear nights, I see lights shining within its darker limb. I hear those lights are cities, peopled by creatures like us. Perhaps. Maybe those super-terrestrials—inhabiting splendid arcologies in the remade air of the moon—once resembled earthlings, although I think not anymore; because, on those rare clear nights, I see scintilla break off from our green, brooding satellite and flash out to the intangible stars. But never back to here.
Dennis Loranger teaches music and literature at Wright State University. In addition to poetry, he also does scholarly work and writes program notes for the Dayton Philharmonic Orchestra.