I know it isn’t full yet
Missing that faint yellow glow
That let’s you see the craters and
Haunted wonder at its silent ascent
But this has been eight months
In the making, a note from the first
Evening spent walking out from a
New room where I could watch the stars
And you never know quite when the clouds,
When the cold, will return, so now
I stretch my arms out and let the
Waxing moon shine down on me
Trace the Big Dipper I can find in that
Space the lamps don’t quite reach
Think of those last few scenes of
Dragons, monochrome zombies, and laughter
60s celebrations and musical mockeries of Apollo
At two theatres I remember
Through stored ticket stubs
And see how the marquee and the moon
Mix together tonight
