The Retired Moonhanger
I've unpacked the moon
from her nightboard box
so many times
I've worn out the ribbons
and hung her up
where she couldn't be missed
unless you were
watching
TV.
After a time, however
things loosen. The moon falls.
That paper crackle under the boot
is the crumpled bonesnap of
last night's hopeful crescent,
broken like a shotgun
that has two black eyes for
what it scars
but fires blind.
So I gave up being
a moon-hanger, years ago.
Now I'm retired--fallen
by the way
some say-- too tired
to lift that heavy glow
or to reach a sky that high,
but I have gotten by
by being very good at
dodging bullets.
~October 2015
posted for real toads
Images: Illegal Manufacture of Light, 1993, by Jacek Yerka
Little House with Flagpole, Georgia O'Keefe
Fair use via wikiart.org
