Chloe Comes Quietly
She has the moon
in her suitcase.
When she’s in my room,
she lets it out.
I would like to skip
my sleep and watch
the moon rise.
She stands on my bed,
slices the moon
into half —
I’m exaggerating.
Her fingers play
shadows against the wall.
“Can you see the cat?”
she asks.
And I focus
on the shadows I see,
the Chinese landscape,
the rice fields,
the waterways,
the reeds,
and the moon rising
out of her suitcase.
Shahé Mankerian
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