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the full moon as Lent closes
she is pink and has hot breath
reeking like she's been drinking
we are having words
the moon and I
and God is in between us
He is catching the slack
both of them are asking me to rest
both making a fool of me
in my wet eyed, angry rant
remaining silent
their tone brings stillness to my kicking
she softens around midnight
or I get over it
starting to see
she is sprouting grass
and in her own way waiting up with me
sitting with me through it
stirring me to it
maybe our Lenten fast
the moon and mine
was an attempt at parched begging
but when it's over
we'll still have each other
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