This poem is taken from PN Review 12, Volume 6 Number 4, March - April 1980.
Eight PoemsStars move to their appointed
Stations; flash much brighter now;
The coldness of the night.
Black moon rising; we had talked
Much the same things as now but
Twenty years back, years gone.
Coming down through the woods that
Night; finding your door; and you
Have turned to someone else.
Appointed places for this
Dance; you would not wish to see
What I have turned to. Black
Moon, stars brighter, colder
Now. Coming downstairs at night
To search the room, to seek
With only that much light; not
...
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