Writing here feels like a howl into nothing

Only, that makes it sound cooler than it is. Like a coyote
only there's not even a moon. There's
only you, who may not be reading this because God
only knows if anyone is.

I suppose the question is, are you moon enough?
If you shine on me, will I illuminate and burst
into a sorrowful song? The kind that's so true
it can be understood across species?
If you exert your gravity, will you pull the water
into a drowning tide?

Because that's your job, reader, whether you're there or not.
I used to think that poets wrote of women when they said "moon,"
only I know better now. What we're hoping for is softer,
more apocalyptic, unreachable.