Today the moon
reappeared
as a ghost:
now slivered,
white, the self
we all carry with us
as baggage
cold and heavy,
full of belongings
and longings
to be somewhere
meaningful
or just to reflect
someone else
in our present
impending dearth,
to grow
and to fade
a night fully
without color,
dim light
in the bone somehow
opening the world
to its waves,
the man in us,
the woman
concocting
our healing,
ebb and flow
of the planetary plenum
of the one and only
body we have
bloodless before history,
silent against sunrise,
still
in its craters.
