I was a small child in the 1960s, when going to the moon went from being a dream to being a reality. If you asked me where I was when they landed on the moon, I’d tell you I was in a friend’s kitchen, watching from the doorway in my pajamas!
small steps
everything was round
the corners of the fridge
the console radio
the bowl covering my head
the high stool with two steps
the smooth calves of my legs
swinging in time to the music
of the electric clippers
the pool of hair at my feet
the fresh pie waiting.
Upstairs I tried to sleep
but the moon called me
back to watch, eyes wide,
hardly comprehending
as the man with the moon-shaped
head stepped down
in black and white
on the tiny screen.
Penguin Poems 