When the soothing daylight
became absorbed
by the dim-colored distance
and the moon’s beak
like a horde of splinters
hit with a thud against earth,
night fell with a rumble
that made no noise.
Then the abrupt moonlight
got caught in your dark hair
and the early evening air
untangled autumn’s roots,
its twilight, its temple of leaves.
I watched you pull closer to yourself,
shaking like a thin spidery web.
You said: ‘Maybe life is an invalid
or a guide gone astray and inside each
circle of breath there is a path of light
that winds around
and comes back to us … and … maybe …
(pause to shiver)
on the day that we are going to die the veil lifts
and we know exactly what it is that we need
and when we turn back to reach for it we fade away.’
Suddenly your gaze was that of a wolf,
calm and transfixed, unaware
of its divine ripeness and only aware
of its physical hunger.
You asked, rhetorically: ‘If love is the master key
to the cosmic equation then why do lovers
become disjointed like worn out nets?’
Looking out over the wooded valley
where gray light feeds on the wilderness,
a jovial wind makes the leaves laugh and blur
and peel from the trees like orange embers
fleeing a fire.
In the dark stubble of the forest
the distance wavered, then disappeared.
The day was gone.
You continued: ‘The bane of our existence
is cold sweat within the icy throes of sinister dreams.
There is too much drizzle, too much clutter.
Then nothing, nothing at all.’
We heard voices coming from along the river,
children’s delicate voices, gentle laughter,
happiness the color of autumn, a crackling fire.
White smoke rose from the valley’s black shroud, rose
like ghostly medicine over the moon’s deep wounds
and the wind shifted to a steady chilled motion.
You shuddered in silence.
Overhead, the noisy geese made their escape
and every leaf was shaking.
---------------------------------------------------------
from my fourth book: 'The Translator'
©dah 2014 "The Moon’s Deep Wounds"
was first published in 'Lost Cost Review'
