The moon is nothing but a dusty ball of rock.
Men were made to go and find out for sure,
flung there like a little handful of rice
at the wedding of desolation and ruin.
The bride wore a white dress
and her chalky carriage was pulled by moon horses,
made from pale stones and solar winds.
When the astronauts came home,
one of them married an albino ticket taker
from a traveling circus.
Their children were wild--
with black hooves hammered from the spaces behind the stars,
and their bedroom shelves filled with rows of Mane N Tail,
they were vain, high stepping Gypsies.
Farmers wanted to shoot them
for eating all the clouds after midnight
because they wanted to see the moon.
"Grandmother," they said,
"Look at us. We are beautiful."
The kin tie pulled them toward the sky like kind redemption,
Where each night they hovered half-way,
hooves up, heads down, arrayed across the sky
This poem is for Real Toads mini challenge #24, featuring a collection of amazing dolls. The one I have written about here was made by Junsung Lee. I think it's gorgeous.