After a half century the moon draws near again
to be touched,
forgiving its last memory of the world 
once at war. In this day and age no one reads
the tarot sky or charts course
into the unknown

and it hesitates on the horizon, uncertain
if it remembers us well.

Photographers wait patiently, children exclaim and point in wise fear.
The old, at peace, gather at the window and
imagine its light rising on their tombstones.


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