MOON BATHING I. My mother showed them to me: tiny moons blooming at the base of each fingernail. I would lie in bed then, counting my moons. This morning the remains of last night’s near full moon balance on a cluster of palms at the edge of the sky, its crown the same pale white as the moon at the base of my thumb. II. Last night the moon glowed waxy-white; it lit the path from the gate to my door and I thought: This is bathing; the full moon bathes the sky in milky light. Sometimes I want to slip outside naked and bathe in moonlight the way I did as a girl but now I have neighbors. III. Mornings when I see the moon still in the sky after I’ve spent hours dreaming and forgetting, it’s like seeing my mother again, her head tilted fondly, her half smile asking Did you sleep well, honey? and I tell her Yes, Mother, I did.
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