The boy in the puddle.
Eyes like small dark planets.
Everyone calls him Fishboy. No one remembers why.
All he says is “Not, not, God is not.”
Clouds move above his head
and across the brown water.
What you don’t know is that the moon
has fallen from the sky. They all blame Fishboy.
He is always looking up.
All day he sits there. The dog does, too.
The sun does set, but the moon doesn’t rise.
Fishboy goes back to his roofless house,
his face shining in the darkened sky.
Source: Fracture: poems from honeymoon bay edited by Patrick Lane, Leaf Press 2016