La Luna
I. She is like the moon pacing the nights in phases, starting empty, invisible, incomplete, or nealy so, more like a shadow, the left over smudge from something written rubbed out by a cheap pencil eraser, or the darkness created when something large, like a boulder, stands in front of a light source; and then, slowly, being filled each night, a bowl, pale white, ghost-like, cracked through misuse, and set aside, outside to collect rainwater and the morning dew, until it is filled with ...