The Moon

The moon has spots.
It’s far from perfect
and yet,
they celebrate it,
worship it fall in love with it,
sing ballads for it set movies on it,
buy land on it build rituals around it,
obsess over every cosmic spectacle,
hotly debate moon landing conspiracy theories,
click it capture it,
in photos poems paintings stories songs sighs,
they even have a term
for people who love the moon.

The moon has spots.
Huge, dark spots
that cover its surface –
scars of accidents
from when asteroids and meteorites
collided with it.

It’s far from perfect
and yet,
it’s considered perfectly beautiful
flawless
normal.

I have spots,
but no such luck.

The Condition

Moons ago, an asteroid
– The Condition –
collided with the lunar surface of my skin,
changing it,
covering it with spots,
changing the trajectory of my life.

My friend, the moon,
waxes and wanes.
Crescent sometimes,
sliver at others.

Me?
I’m forever eclipsed.

Excerpted with permission from Spotless: A Novel in Verse, Vibha Batra, Hachette India.

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