Threshing Moon

There's supposed to be a lunar 
eclipse tonight—the maw of a dragon 

swallowing a pearl because its brilliance
is magnetic. I, too, want such a milky 

light coursing down my throat, softening 
the canyons made by the hardness 

of years. There's always the moment before 
and the moment after. And between the two,

all the days sifting their questions, so you
could winnow the chaff from the grain.