Ravaged, a full moon cut
The night with exquisite timing,
Refining darkness into diamond,
Making the moment a great circle,
The unimagined a spectacle,
Till some thought slammed shut
You the intruder outside,
Because eyes eyes are mortal
Intruders drowned in their own water,
And hands hands a dead man’s napkin
Mar the mystery once taken
For yours, the blood’s tide
Lapping against the marble
Stairs from the palace
Down to the harbour, the beggar’s chalice
Studded with barnacles, the gemstones
You cut your hands on, the guest
Who longed too much.
Whose is the face in the water
Floundering, befuddled and bridled
With the moon’s rhythms, anguished and addled,
Face face that wonders whose hands disfigure
The angel, yours, poor beggar?
Yes what do you matter?
But the moon you remember
Was ivory and bruises,
A ruined window true brilliance excuses,
Around which Heaven itself had gathered
Enamoured, darkness fractured,
Polished and tempered.
26 August 2015
25 April 2016