jet lag

the moon was a piece of silver foiled chocolate

-i struck gimel and put the coin between my lips-

and the sky darkened so we could see the eiffel tower,

all lit up with christmas lights and stars.

i woke up between orange and white sheets

and went to stand on the balcony.

the moon was gone, i had eaten it,

the shadowed sun was still there,

muffled by the gauzy clouds' embroidery;

meringue melted on my tongue.

the marble steps at versailles dip in the middle

where people have worn them away for years;

ancient footsteps sink into my own.

i see the lake in the gardens and wonder

whether i could walk on water-

i can. the queen's guests clap at me, faces red from wine,

the queen herself watches through powdered lids;

she never smiles, but her eyes sparkle

like that of a young life cut short.