The moon muted by clouds
late dusk
me trudging up the steep street
(it’s a fucking 90-degree angle,
I say, angry to be prodded to walk)
I wonder if it’s so hard to climb this hill
because I am weighted down by my anger
or if it is only because I carry with me
the grief of a lifetime
but the waxing moon carries me in turn
earthworm moon
ghost moon
and I am glad for the company
as I climb.