i missed the rise of the
Full Moon last night,
preoccupied in thought
hands busy in work

she missed the rise of the
Full Moon last night
preoccupied in pain
early to bed, early to bed-ridden

i say, i will witness Her tonight
waning only slightly, gibbous,
99, 98 percent
or next month,
with confidence, and guilt

i say, she won’t witness Her tonight,
or next month, or any phase
Zero percent
wondering if she ever considered the Moon,
with confidence, and guilt

the word “full” lingers on beyond the Moon’s illumination
— as relative,
in these lives of ours

the word “confidence” lingers on beyond the prognosis and presumption
— as universal,
in these lives of ours