LXVI
While stooping low, to rescue some ants,
the moon fell out of my pocket.
A selfish girl put it in a locket
so as to hide it from lovers’ wants.
The locket was shaped like a heart
but the metal was only gold-tone.
(Had it been silver, it would have shown.)
While dipping ice cream, the chain came apart
and she lost my precious little moon.
It rolled under the door and got away.
A band of pygmies, camped in her yard,
one day left altogether too soon.
I began to suspect something that day,
when I couldn’t find it, though I looked hard.
Written in 1987.
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