globe, hung from tree branches, lays
above cotton fog.

I shall refrain from/
quoting what Shakespeare once wrote:/
Smite that jealous Moon.
I spied her tonight/
Hovering over a white/
And black frozen site.
I recall when we /
lay gazing at the full moon./
Then she blocked my view.
The midnight train’s
lonesome call
awakened me.
Startled,
I looked to see
a bright light
bearing down on me.
I panicked
until I realized
it was again
the damn
full
moon
racing
down
the
window
slats
tracks
to once more
crush
my heart
with missing you
memories.
She didn’t want to/
help guide me home. No matter:/
The full moon shone bright.