How To Start Again
Capture the moon, and keep it
tucked in the folds of your robe.
You have hidden more than this: in
small drawers, in boxes, in creases
no iron can flatten. Others have tried
but weakened at its pleading, its
insistence on returning to the sky.
Pay it no mind. You now rule all tides
and cycles, and you have learned
to be hard. Stand at the window like
a woman staring at the sea. Admire
your black handiwork.
Who cares if the night is blind,
its white eye plucked and hooded?
Swathed in fleece against your skin,
the moon births halos at your feet.
— Donna Vorreyer, author of A House of Many Windows
T. S. Poetry