The Moon and the Dog

One cold night the moon rose full
in perfect periodic roundness
– of course, she is a lady –
and bragged that peoples and nations
have worshipped her, and she liked it,
and that was her sin,
and why she was an exile.

Oh yes, the way it is,
it's in the Book.

I wondered,
does my dog worship me,
I'd like that,
and is that my sin?

He looked up and said to me
– in hushed barks –
that he knows nothing of theology,
that he loves me,
nothing more, nothing less,
and I knew my dog was holy.