Remembering the Moon

I sometimes forget how pretty the moon is

When whole and dripping

Pregnant and stepping out of the shower

Or how glowing it can be

As a detective stalking sleepy streets

With a flashlight of snow on the naked truth,

That the only reason I’m outside

Exposing myself to the night’s frost,

Is to quiet my barking dog

So my neighbors can stay clothed

In cotton and hidden beneath

Satin Sheets,

Beige Ceilings,

and

Rafters stuffed with Insulant