I would that I could share the moon with you,
The spangled disc,
Like speckled end pages of some old book.
You the lady in waiting.
Me, in my morning coat.
A work in progress.
The moon, watching all of this like the foreman of a jury.
A snow globe with the spiral aim of the same flakes,
Seen over and over again in a swirl.
I miss you
Over and over again.