Here the moon is bent just so; a crook in the wrist, the little girl's softest stretch of skin. The moon is framed by nothing. I am learning something new every day. That is to say, I am learning new ways to communicate his absence. A celestial body falls formless and only place dictates shape.

The words were forming themselves in my mouth. Come home.

Clouds cast
shadows long
and then longer
and then none.

Sometimes
I can still feel
teeth moving
inside my jaw.

A healthy head
is said to lose
one hundred
hairs a day.

My room self-
constructs these
tiny monuments
to him.