Like the Crescent Moon

The far side of your face
is lit by the sun—
enough earthshine to twinkle
your eyes and enough shadow
to hint at mysteries.

If I were a photographer
who knew f-stops and film speeds,
I’d snap this image,
develop it in a darkroom,
frame it for your wall.

But then it would be only you.
Instead I’ll write a poem—
strip you of your identity,
leave you naked as a cipher
so you become universal.

And now you are everyone
the reader finds beautiful.

Unknown's avatar

About Bartholomew Barker

Bartholomew Barker is an organizer of Living Poetry, a collection of poets in the Triangle region of North Carolina where he has hosted a monthly feedback workshop for more than decade. His first poetry collection, Wednesday Night Regular, written in and about strip clubs, was published in 2013. His second, Milkshakes and Chilidogs, a chapbook of food inspired poetry was served in 2017. He was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2021. Born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, he worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough where he lives and writes poetry.
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12 Responses to Like the Crescent Moon

  1. Your words catch my breath. 📸

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Stunning Bartholomew! 💜

    Liked by 1 person

  3. JeanMarie's avatar JeanMarie says:

    Interesting

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Wonderful 💖

    Liked by 1 person

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