Waxing gibbous, perigee Moon mocks me
with her neither large or small shining call.
She terrifies me when full –
some symptom flares up.
She sneaks up on me when new –
surprising energy leading to health or shame.
Moon mocks me in all guises except crescent.
The Cheshire Cat grins and I know
I’m safe for tonight.
Waxing gibbous, perigee Moon glowered at me.
Sadly, I’m reminded that Moon
guides/tempts/throws me. I, her slave.
No path to guide me, save to the hospital.
No salvation from temptation
except a friend’s interruption.
No lifeline thrown, save the red bag
half-packed awaiting Full Moon’s beckon.
Waxing gibbous, perigee Moon shines brightly
as she rounds out, rings around her.
She tells me it’s time, though she is not full.
My hunch from her confirmed as I crawl around
trying to function
and the Mom confirms Moon.
Depression drops me off at the hospital.