They read the moon like the China Daily
rolling dusky ink between a finger and thumb.
And every particular mood, every percent of full,
is like a long-time wife.
you remember her birthday, her period, her melancholy.
Somewhere in the beginning they fashioned cakes.
They cooked cakes with every unforecasted smellure, texture, and flavor,
like her.
so usual, my wife,
so unknown a woman.
The moon and her cakes
Madonna and child of revelry.
oct 19
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