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.