LUNAR ECLIPSE
First white, then gray eclipse, with remnant light
Drifting down to a Cheshire grin…
The remnant’s gone, and the full moon
Reddens in dead branches.
The moon’s dark and ruddy, dark enough to let the stars out, sharp,
In a cold city.
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The dead leaf garden, once blanched
By the moon to look like snow,
Starts back in wonder now at the blackness of the night,
Then tries to wait for dawn.
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White, gray, red, back to white, and then
From white to vanished in the next day’s light —
These lunar moods bring in, with ebbing tide,
Remembrance of you. Of your suicide.