Waning crescent

a sliver, a nail
rips the edge of a pale sky
red sun in its claws

Resolution

I was thinking the other day
About the speed of memory
And the reach of a good chord change
And how two notes carry me immediately
Forty-three years
And I’m coming off the dance floor
Hair wet
Blouse pulling out of my skirt
Careful not to break my ankles
        (four inch heels and a glass of wine)

Once out the door
The patient moon glanced down at me
And sighed

I tucked in my shirt
Walked far in more sensible shoes
And here I am