Unheralded, the gibbous moon
arrives too late, if not too soon,
a goblet neither full nor empty,
off balance there, like Humpty Dumpty
or one of us, afraid of falling,
having missed a stair or calling,
lopped mushroom cap, a thing diminished,
or handwork set aside unfinished,
a doily of discolored lace
moth-eaten in an attic space,
age-spotted face obscurely seen
peering through a storm door screen,
ragged moon in a ragged cloud,
Lazarus risen, trailing his shroud,
a powdered thumbprint on the sky
that blurs the stars we travel by,
thin wafer vagrant souls are fed,
wholly insufficient bread
we bless and break, and multiply.
Gibbous Moon
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