THE DAUGHTERS OF LONGING
That the moon doesn't care for Spring.
That it doesn't fill itself out as an announcement
That a season is coming. It has its own games,
Water, the blood moving through mammals,
Huge hatches of insects making another music.
Still it shines brighter than all else in the night
Sky. It opens the earth itself in rain or clear
Light and gives names to the waking of the ground.
No matter where we go, if the night is open,
Clear and the course of this spinning planet
Is open and not just showing off the stars,
There she is, her royal majesty, directing everything
From the top of the night, not caring who or what
Sees her light, the llama races or mischief
In the eyes of old magicians somewhere in Mexico.
Slipping through the fog above the Great Lakes,
Holding court before the Northern Lights,
It is still the moon, careless and reclining
On the whole of our sky with us always loving it.
YOUR SISTER AND THE MOON
THE BARLEY DANCING
THE AVENGING ANGELS
BECOMING A SONG
THE RUNIC ALPHABETS
for Viola Weinberg-Spencer
I knew the runic alphabets and tossed
Them into the fire during Winter to keep us warm.
This was a wrong thing to do. It was something
We thought might work but none of it was true.
Now when I speak, there is only rain
And the roads get slippery as we walk.
We used to have steps but now it’s just bets
If we will make it home before
Christ can remember his name.
—Medusa, with many thanks to D.R. Wagner for today’s fine poems and pix!