Harry Newman
Even The Moon
was it the end of wonder?
a man standing on the moon
I felt something then if only
a child’s first intimation of loss
staring at that photo in the paper
folded against my father’s leg
my real father who would fade
soon enough as the moon
would fade without returning
the one clear image I have of him
driving that morning in the dark
driving in silence to the wharf
to see if it seemed any different
the moon we looked at it through
the windshield in time to see it
setting no sign of the men
or the flag just a rock now
sinking beyond the horizon
I turned my gaze to my father
but he was already gone
I could see it then gone
in his own orbit and leaving
me changed to rock
and sinking behind him
