My science project is finished,
a demonstration of the eight phases of the moon.
It is a Styrofoam ball
hanging from the lid of a shoebox.
I punched eight holes around the box,
one for each phase.
When I aim a flashlight at the ball,
it’s like the sun shining on the moon.
You can look through the holes and see
the phases of light and dark:
New Moon
Waxing Crescent
First Quarter
Waxing Gibbous
Full Moon
Waning Gibbous
Last Quarter
Waning Crescent
and back to New
“This explains the phases very well,” Papa says,
peering through a hole.
But Mama has noticed my waning crescent mood,
and asks, “What’s wrong?”
“It’s small and boring and flimsy.
I could have made this in fourth grade,” I say,
and thump the Thom McAn shoebox
until the moon sways.
I will never win first prize with this moon box.
“What are you going to do about that?” Papa asks.
I snap off the flashlight, and the kitchen goes milky dim
from the Full Sprouting Grass Moon outside.
I know what he wants from me,
and so do I:
“Make a better one,” I say,
then sigh. “I just don’t know how.”