Deceptive

An American moon fixes in her
pale eyes of shattered snail shells.
A moon raised by the old Aztec God,
straining his knees,
a white crescent shell wet on his back.

She sprang out of dust and river
because home was a begging hand
too small for hunger
and North was a silver coin.

Elsewhere the moon performs
some other familiar ministry,
like a shepherd leading them
to where she is now, gazing at a moon
crestfallen, and crying into her hands.

Pockets here are like dry tongues. Useless
she thinks staring at this moon, a silver coin,
and weight of home heavy on her back.

MR

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