MOON, WITHOUT POSSIBLE APPROACH

Did friends neglect me because they had everything I wished? Kept a waiting room in flowers. Blue of winter afternoon pressed against the windows. Cheek cooled against condensation. Slept the sleep I had no relish for while they paced through colic.

Rejoicing covers me with pastry; I am pinched.

Shy away from the easy confidence of strangers. Blushing announcements are not punished for their fearlessness. And why should they be.

One form listed diagnosis: spontaneous aborter. Rage at who names a body.

Most people experience this as a loss, one doctor said.

I am fond of a hedge at this hour. Find a cobalt marble, gritty silt, smooth bone of uncertain origin in the pocket of last year’s jacket. Tilt my head to dizzy clustered asters, steep path.

Frock coat of discretion. Dovecote small shelter in a rain storm. Blood wet white feathers mired.

Distant diminishing glow.