The Moon is a Faulty Friend

This is a poem I wrote after returning from Ghost Ranch, New Mexico, Aug. 09.  The full moon has always had an affect on me; this poem describes it somehow.

The Moon Is A Faulty Friend


The moon is a faulty friend.
Most times, I enjoy her company;
     a sliver in the cobalt sky,
     a punctuation over crepe myrtles.


I love to see her in the morning
     unexpected in the dawning light,
     when the sun is preparing to own the day.


I take comfort in the moon,
     rising and setting like the sun,
     waning and waxing in her own menstrual cycle;
     expectations realized, no surprises.


But the fullness of her celestial
     presence as she ripens to a
     pompus plumpness, radiating
     her brashness through my
     shattered self, causes me to
     reconsider our friendship;
     she shines too brightly on the vault
     that holds our secret conversations.