The Moon Has Teeth

The clouds are an old quilt

torn and soft with bits of stuffing 

poking through the worn stitching 

double-ring

And the moon grins 

Teeth gleaming through

Celestial Jack o’lantern 

A child in the winter night

Light held aloft, blanket in hand

trailing off to bed

Only to find

A catenary pillow fort of luminous

Stars to the end of time

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