Eclipse

It's like seeing the sky when
both the moon and the sun
are visible
and you know it's day; you know.
you do. you know that this
is the reality, and yet:  
the moon, which burns suddenly
and so much hotter than
its mother star,
grabs you and your
cylindrical, crystalline attention
into bones and softness at once;
without fail,
without even trying.
(I call you moon because of your
oceanic tendencies,
though you are
fiery as the phoenix, as the bonfire
in the darkness, the match that all eyes
spark to
when the lights go out)
as every drop of blood
in my tidal veins swirls,
aching for night to come,
for the light
of the moon to not seem
so borrowed
beside the stars and their bedside
waiting tables.

Reviews

[Ed Hart]

ah, poetry nurturing nature! fundamental! hormonal! takes no prisoners, yet that god damn moon makes prisoners of us all...welcome...