Evening Meander

Pale,
bloated fish belly
moon swims low
in the Janus sky.

Thin sheets of Lake Huron glass
shard upwards,
pushed by an eastern storm,
faint tidal nudges.

Squatting down in brittle nest
of wind-flattened rush grasses
I watch the night sky
pan for gold.

Mars, brightened by distance
and sun configurations:
a lure
for the forgotten.

Silences shattered by breaking glass.
A shaft of ice
slices moon belly--
spilling forth intestines of fortitude.