the crescent moon
cut deep this month. she died the day
the waxing crescent swung low
through the cedars.
i must have grieved through the half moon
i don't remember.
mourning erases memory, sweeps it into clouds.
she lives in my dreams
or whenever my eyes are closed.
tonight the moon is full
let it bring her back to me.
every new thing i see without her
a milestone beyond bearing.
september full moon
bring her back to me.