Moonrise over ocean horizon. My father / teaches me to shoot / photos through a telescope, craters and ridges / rise like pockmarked skin / beneath a fluorescent light. This was now. I loved / the night lilies. The tigers, too, / that grew in my father’s garden, the way / something was always / awake, waiting. / I gathered worms and black swimming beetles / from the backyard pool / into jars of water. Look at them dance! I told him. / They’re carnivores, he informed me. / What did I know / about cruelty then, how accidental it could be?