'Even in August, the night'

        Even in August, the night
                         is too cold, and the finest
crescent moon I can remember

                         above a city
pauses, a small light, outside my window,
        held within a loop
                         of the cord
        of our TV

At the market
        this afternoon, we bought
                         plastic masks, left over
        from last year's

        to hang
at the top of the staircase, outside
                         our bedroom door.