Thursday, August 17, 2017

Solar Eclipse August 21, 2017 Poem

moon pulls a room-darkening shade
across the sun, a small circle
to have a private conversation,
a face-to-face performance appraisal

between this midsize star
and earth’s orbiter
after nearly a century.
the moon first gives sun honor,

praises its radiance,
while the sun bathes the side
of the moon we can’t see
in invisible, noncommittal light.

the moon, more assertive than usual,
asks for higher recognition in the solar system,
despite its pockmarked, dusty complexion,
telling the sun it needs a promotion,

after toiling and twirling
all these years for earth,
never revealing its bad side,
no matter how much it wanted to.

showing off now as it casts cities
and states one by one into shadow,
however fleeting,
hurrying on to make the next impression.

still seeing no response from the sun,
the moon turns to the words of man,

speaking the language of each country
it traced in its former eclipsical paths.

reciting to the sun countless poems
that poets have written
about its fullness and mystery,
believing earthly rumors

woven on terra firma
might make good references.
but by August 22,
the eclipse comes to an end.

the moon is disappointed.
but the sun smiles,
opens its round yellow mouth
and tells the moon,

“I know it’s been
a long 99 years,
spaceships have landed
on your surface in the interim,

for the first time,
earthlings have left
footprints across you,
stuck flags in your face,

alien colonies make
way stations
on your
dark side,

nonetheless,
you continue to reflect,
to orbit, wax whole, wane crescent,
play hide and seek,

making the same loyal dance
every 28 nights,
nonetheless, you want an evaluation?
how about a question?

can what I say or
any earthbound poem
still the twice-daily tides you create
that rock the world?”


                        ~ Cynthia Gallaher

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1 comment:

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