why the moon is a little smaller now than it was 30 years ago

My star-shaped holepuncher could fill anything with the absence of stars,
and I sat outside
in the cold air:
a pile of leaves, my punched canvases.

I would let them take the wind when they needed to leaf.

Art belongs to itself alone,
and I was waiting up for Venus.

When the twinkle in the sky became clear
to carry a name with certainty,
a bright white brighter than anything else
in the dark night,
I punched the sky in seven-year-old joy,
and felt something a few feet away
startle.

I froze, and it froze
for a minute
and then,
I saw his masked face
and ringed tail.

He held a punched leaf up to the sky,
and shifted till the moonlight
twinkled on his fur
like he was a galaxy.

And when he had covered himself
in all the moonstars he could carry,
shaped by leaf and light,

the little bandit
ran off.

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