All month I’ve had a note
to write about The Moon
(the tarot card, not the satellite)
and every day some other poem
has shoved its way onto the page
instead.

Today at last I write
about The weird and wonderful
Moon, with its giant crayfish
(that I always think of as a lobster)
and path that leads from water
to mountains that look like waves

into the sky between howling canids
(both wild and domestic)
and stone towers of enormous
scale beneath a moon whose brow
seems furrowed with thought
or effort.

Today I am the lobster
(why not just own it)
crawling onto land past animal
nature and civilized construct
into the sky to help the moon
dream the world.