What the Moon does at Night & Masculinity

by Tyler Lemley

University of the Incarnate Word

Tyler Lemley is a second year theatre major at the University of the Incarnate Word. In his time at university, Tyler has explored many different art forms, including design, acting, creative writing, visual art, and more. He looks forward to becoming more well-rounded as an artist during his next two years of college.

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What the Moon does at Night

The moon sits in her bay window,
a framed photograph of her wedding
day sat on her lap, a mug of coffee
cupped in her waxing hands.
She watches her yard,
lit by the stars, and thinks
about the rummaging rodents:
do their husband's love them?

Later, she will open a bottle
of Merlot, because of the name:
it makes her feel rich, regal,
like the women on reality tv.

She’ll read about Mercury,
and wonder if its retrograde
is the reason her husband
won’t look her in the eye.

She’ll see Saturn’s rings
and be jealous of her jewelry,
jealous she’s treated like royalty,
jealous because the last time
she felt seen was when Pluto
was her pool boy, and he asked
for a glass of lemonade.
While he slurped he stared
at her bosom, and she let him.

The moon will call her mother: Earth.
But Earth will tell her she’s too busy
with the house fire, and the garden
which she can’t keep alive anymore.
Earth used to have a green thumb,
before she started smoking.

Masculinity

Shame sounds like a zipper
fastening a black plaid H&M skirt
in the fluorescent quiver
of the stale dressing room.
Only a curtain guarding the world
from my underwear peeking out
from under the garment.

Shame is a boy being brought
to Hooters, looking the
waitresses in the eyes,
wondering to himself why
he keeps gawking at the man
at the bar.

Shame is loving how the skirt
shapes your waist, but leaving the store
with a pair of jeans
that look identical to the ones
you already own.