—The Eclectic Muse, Volume 16, Christmas 2010, page 36
Z. Kartik giggled and bobbled his baby cup
Before stopping to quench his thirst.
Satisfied, he jiggled his body and looked up
To Kartik’s Moon with such awe even the burst
Of a balloon couldn’t phase him. But maybe the moon
Looked like a balloon, and Z. Kartik was left to wonder
Where the string was. The Autumn air chilled; he swooned,
Awakened, at the unusual sounds and smells of thunder
Moaning in the distance. Did the orb’s bright light,
So rich and thick it hid the stars, pass the two of us joy
Like a baton in a relay, or was it in on our secret of the night?
He seemed to tire, as he twisted and turned back to the round toy,
And felt it speak, like a god. Kartik! God of Just War,
You who claim a lunar month, Z. Kartik owns divine gifts too:
He just took his first step — and look – now he’s taking more!
But there he goes again, tripping over his left shoe…
…So it’s off to bed he goes, with a rub and a yawn,
Where he’ll sleep until Kartik’s Moon is gone.