my attention turns from puddle to the sky-blue sky
(the color a joke,
of children’s paint sets,
of tired poetry)
i look in silence and make no remark
inwardly, I howl at the daytime moon
pasted awkwardly above the skyline
rising half-full above the city
observed by nearly none of the over-dense population
walking past, looking down
far away and belonging to no-one
I harbor my howl deep in my abdomen
primal appreciation for this ignored
collaboration of sun and moon
“If you haven’t got a penny, ha’penny will do”
There hangs the ha’penny moon above a billion dollar city
the howl passes and i turn my attention earth-ward
as golden leaves drop in the old puddle
obscuring the moon in the mud.
-irma 20aug2020
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