The moon is resting on the highest shelf
and he will bring it to her
gift-wrapped in a string of stars.

He will bring it in a black seabag
buried underneath wrinkled, white shirts
underneath a month old bag of m&m’s
and the Old Spice she gave him for Christmas
a year ago.

She will reach for the moon pearl glow.
And she will cry.

Daddy, is this the last time?