Far Tide

The moon is wondering
whether to orbit or
shirk responsibility, whip off
to parts unknown, maybe displace Deimos
or juke Pluto.
She pulls
herself together every day just enough,
she is always
falling and missing, falling and missing
her mark, that’s what orbit means.
Tide is thankless
and she can still remember
being dust, spinning
together and fusing
and cracking apart.
She’s been cratered for ages
and maybe that boot on her face was the last straw.
The moon is wandering
towards the dark side,
the moon is waxing her surfboard
and staring into the sun.


(First appeared in Poems-For-All #1321)



About Me

Simon Mermelstein is a poet and performer from Ann Arbor, MI.   A two-time Pushcart Prize nominee, his work appears in Atlanta Review, RHINO, Spillway, Hawai’i Pacific Review, FreezeRay, the MacGuffin, and many others.  In his spare time, he enjoys trying to make this website look vaguely professional.


Internet Presence

Apparently, I put this blog up a year ago, posted nothing, and completely forgot about it–when I tried to set up a wordpress as “simonmermelstein”, it told me that name was already taken.  I had to make sure it wasn’t Simon Mermelstein the dentist in Costa Rica (my nemesis), but sure enough, it said “Simon Mermelstein: Poetry with Velocity”, which is exactly the sort of thing I would have written about a year ago.

From henceforth, therefore, let this be the official internet presence of Simon Mermelstein the poet, in Ann Arbor, and not of Simon Mermelstein the dentist, although I’m sure he’s a lovely guy making a comfortable living.  So let this poetry be laughing gas.  Let it help improve your smile.  Let it bust out crazy-ass tools from time to time that go reee! reee! reee! and use suction and ultraviolet light.  Let it make your face numb; let it grind you to the bone.  May you spit blood and drink water and think, “God, I needed that!”  May you come back every six months for a cleaning.  May we use these x-ray powers for good.