Remembering the Moon

Remembering the Moon

I remember the moon
how small it looks, even when it's full,
on winter nights in western New York,
no bigger than a dime suspended in the sky.

I punched out at two a.m.
Drove home through a black and white movie
The moon’s reflection on the snow
created long shadows and dark eyed silhouettes.

Flashing red lights
cut through the monochrome.
Even before I was close enough to see
the ambulance was in front of her house,
I knew
          Jenny lost her battle.

Porcelain doll face
knew from the age of twelve
that she would never graduate 
or walk down an aisle
wearing white.

Three years she fought
losing all her shiny brown hair in the process.
I watched life slowly siphoned from eyes
not even old enough to drive

        and the moon melted before my eyes.

____________________________________________

In memory of Jennifer Stanley