Edward Wilson: Moonrise

surprised again
to see that monstrous
stone floating
in the sky.

Our only hint’s
the sea, sighing
as it warps, hissing
across the sand,
reaching as far
as it can.

Few know
the calculus that
holds the moon
in its arc and
fewer still

(and maybe only
late in strange rooms
waking alone with that
pale spill across
the sheets)

sense what terrible
weight things bear
and still go on.

If you weren’t
there, if we didn’t
dance, I’d surely
loop away into
the dark.

A miracle
no less than that
a thing so ruined
can shine.

–Edward Wilson



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