dear moon diary,on three attempts to note an eclipse

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1 now
  i am alone.no
  humors for my starward
  larking,no moon
  but the dim swell of its
  pregnant press against
  the grayglowing stomach
   of the sky. 

  i am out
   in the weather that keeps them
   from shooting down satellites.

2 now i am
  sure
  of the moon,
  some sharp little part of it
  glinting from beneath
  my own infinite shadow.

3 now sheathed
  in umbral sleep,
  the cut-dog moon
  shuts off again.

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