Parabola

 

 

 

 

 

 

Parabola

 

 I've clerked all my life 

in the Ministry of the Moon,

a fixed point on her long ellipse,

recording her perigees, her apogees,

her slow apotheoses,

while she lays

 

her lean silver arms across

the back of my chair, penciling in 

corrections on my sedulous tallies

of tides the heart has taken in

given out, or given up.

These are not erasable

 

but sometimes she

strikes out a line

changes my totals

with her flickering hand,

all in pencil, all by moonlight remote

and hard as hammers;

 

but the sun is her bright clown, only

on fire to fill her midnight eye,

so who am I

not to dance along?

 

 

 

 

last day of June, 2025 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 posted for Word Garden Word List at

Shay's Word Garden 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Images: Aurora vortex, author unknown, via internet   Fair Use

Dark Dancers, ©Gina Jacob     Fair Use 

 

 

In Time Of Eclipse

In Time Of Eclipse

Down among the dead things

her candled light is dragged

but not blown out;

fire that serves 

burns longer 

kinder

than the eclipse's flare that puts out sight.

She's with the tilting stars, flying,

and our loss, and our gain;

a bird with purple down

flying, flying,

 turning the eye from 

this brief blacking of the sun

that belts the world.

for Heather Heyer

~August 2017

Heather Heyer was murdered in an act of domestic terrorism in Charlottesville, Va. on August 12, 2017. Her favorite color was purple. 

Much of the middle United States will experience a rare total solar eclipse on Monday, August 21.

Images: Heather in a glass heart, via pinterest