I howled at the moon for coasting its orbit
like a lone boy on the surface of the community
swimming pool at dusk, clutching a kick-board,
craving the fresh penny that flashes
ghostly golden brown stripes among the white ones, but afraid
of the water, afraid to dive,
or like a half-witted vulture circling, too dumb to dive
at the long-dead meat
(even after all the other moons had fled
fearing the competition,
and had taken all the competition with them;
and even as the whole prize called to the straggler moon
in the voice of gravity),
but the moon wouldn’t take a living.
It would only make one.
