Cyclical sleeping

Hunter’s moon, like most full moons

Goes unseen by me, asleep in my bed by nightfall

Mom says I was born under a harvest moon, a full moon

The fullest moon, considering the word harvest has meaning

Northern hemisphere folks fill our bellies as the moon fills the tides

Pulling the ocean as always, in and out like inhales and exhales

Like the ocean itself breathes, the moon inflating and deflating lungs

Which evolved from swim bladders, gills, fish with names mimicking our organs

from that salty sea the moon controls. The moon controls outside

Whereas inside, I sleep, dreaming occasionally, elsewhere and

Outside of the control of this hunter moon’s gravitational pull.