By Kay Ryan
If the moon happened once,
it wouldn't matter much,
would it?
Once evening's ticket
punched with a
round or a crescent.
You could like it
or not like it,
as you chose.
It couldn't alter
every time it rose;
it couldn't do those
things with scarves
it does.
Ryan, K. (1996). Elephant Rocks. New York, NY: Grove Press.
Photo Credit: Google Images.
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