I’ve seen the moon whole
half
quarter
my own life
tipping toward the waning quarter
I can turn so easily it seems tomfoolery
this ease of body not showing true age
a collective sigh erupts from the mouthes of my selves
child adolescent young adult mother sister wife
child
we return near the end realize all those phases
the waxing and waning of the perfect things gone perfected
holding my hand crossing the bridge to the only one who remains
and the moon goes new