I moved the moon into my old house last night

The people are there, glistening bare backs steeped in strange sounds

with boxes of antiques pulled out of place

from the ships that the residents of the locket

had committed to, moving boxes along the pier

spices scattered in their pigtails

The moon has seen everything, can teach you

return to the moon in the house

miss the people who have sailed, out

found livelier planets, leave behind newcomers

Up on the moor, Chang’er wishes the visionaries would learn again 

all the ways she laughs too, would caress

more than the runaways at the subway