THE MOON

Always she
fullness to pendulous

When gone utterly: new

When slender as in her luminous blade
or heavenly bow: the huntress

Always ruler of the night
even in her absence

Before I knew better
I thought the sun followed her
in their round and round

When I began to know too much
she lit my way

After I suspected I knew nothing really
she lit my dreams
casting as they say
her pale as they say
silver coat across the nearest chair
wanton in her ageless way

I too never agreed with that first step
man’s boot upon her face
its print still there

On nights when she tugs at the tides
if you squint you can make it out
a tear near one eye