The moon’s hare sits on her haunches,
her ears a-glimmer with night.
She leaps in circles around the earth.
Such a shadow play, a movie!
Silhouettes flicker on a gleaming
silver screen round as an eye.
Dear moon, bright moon, look down
with your hare-filled eye. Let your light
swim into the garden like a little fish.
Spangles splash among the shadows,
silvering the weeds.
Dazzling bright, stung with light.
An ear flops over her eye.
Down into the garden I go after midnight
not knowing how, somnambulant, white shining.
I fly along Punt Road to catch the late, late,
late-night bus. A car near misses. I am nearly
white shine on the asphalt.
The moon long set lies chuckling under the earth.
Like lava, but cold.
A rock with a hare-filled eye.
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