Moonrakers

The earth looks still off the moon's edge
Just a half-bubble
Busy with its terrible soapy churning
The night unstoppable between us

You must be wondering who rakes the moon
Who makes the moon
The seemingly arbitrary arrangement of craters and valleys
Unspeakable valleys, dusty hallways between cliffs
Perfectly curved basins, the puckered edges catching the light
During a monthly sunrise
Dark, unmoving seas of shadow

We are the moonrakers, the diggers
Careful with our light feet, our fine tools and shovels maria-powdered
And this is what we know:
An asteroid deserves its crater,
Our years of work the work of mirrors
A good work, fair

But who are you, landing so gently,
coming with your fat prints
The harsh parallel lines of the sole
You, with your round glass helmets
with which you reflect so much more gracefully
Everything you know

— 2016