I cultivate you
O Moon,
seeding ribbons of light
shredded memories
one more sliver
one last
each night
from the faint glimmer
like a whisper
to a crescent
to an incandescent
disk of dark love.
From a crescent
to a glowing halo
you show off
O Moon
like a mistress
of dark Saturday nights.
Ankahi. Unsaid. 