My sister and I gazed up at the night,
“The moon is so full,” she said with a smile.
But the moon was a crescent, a broken
Thing in the sky. I studied her eyes,
How they filled with awe and delight. Were her
Retinas blind, or did the fault lie in mine?
Painted in her eyes, were fragments of sky -
Wherein hung the moon, from billowing wisps,
Partially buried in night’s velvet kiss.
“It’s broken, love…see it draped in dark’s gown?”
She shook her head, “the moon is always round.”
And I thought of broken things I have seen,
Wondering what wholeness was hiding beneath,
The darkness, the velvet, the folds of stars.
How many things do I see by their scars?
Ten year old girls get dainty, lady shoes.
You’ve been waiting some time for your own pair.
But today you picked out your lady shoes,
And for all the happiness you found there,
I might turn ten again to buy my own pair.