Lunar Burlesque
A poem by Jennifer Lagier

Lunar Burlesque

 “Difficult to describe how otherworldly the moon was last night.
  It rose from the ocean in an orange luster 
and then became more and more pearlescent, 
disrobing and finally wearing only a black feather boa.”
~ Lois P. Jones 

Rising moon strips clouds
from celestial dome,
mugs with platinum face,
flaunts shaggy fog boa.

Sequined cosmos blinks,
spills bats and falling stars.
Engorged planetoid ascends,
illuminates coastal oak observers.

Pacific Ocean applauds evening’s floorshow.
Silver-streaked waves
clap rocking boat docks,
fling foamy tribute
onto kelp-dotted shoreline.

Nighttime’s lunar chanteuse
struts through ebony hours,
arouses restless sleepers,
surges through skylights.

About the Author:

Jennifer Lagier lives a block from the stage where Jimi Hendrix torched his guitar during the 1967 Monterey Pop Festival. She taught with California Poets in the Schools, edits the Monterey Review, helps coordinate Monterey Bay Poetry Consortium Second Sunday readings. Jennifer has published nineteen books, most recently: Meditations on Seascapes and Cypress (Blue Light Press), COVID Dissonance (CyberWit), Camille Chronicles (FutureCycle Press), Moonstruck (CyberWit). Forthcoming: Weeping in the Promised Land (Kelsay Books), Postcards from Paradise (Blue Light Press).

Website: jlagier.net

Facebook: www.facebook.com/JenniferLagier/

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