by Allan Peterson

Our moon falls up every night or seems to smaller the farther

Or maybe it’s only doing round-the-world as the earth’s yo-yo
The secular story is gravity and stasis and making the same face
at all times but everything’s true sooner or later Pick one yourself
A hole in a dark donut so big we can’t see edges so thirsty
It’s taking a big dark drink See its mouth wide open filling in

Something going dark at night is not especially surprising

but tonight the sky dog will eat the moon or a mythical demon will try
to hide up there but pick by mistake the one place with the light on
Then barking and banging pots and pans and gunshots erupt
from some little country using up military aid to rout those monsters