Eclipse of the Moon by Mary Susanah Robbins - HTML preview

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You call me back when I recall the past.


Don't fidget, love, you cannot come to harm

among these black and brightening honey-swarms:

we are the fitted cells that hold all fast.


Can you regret you loosed me on the night?

Dawn broke for me once, your years ago,

but what's been long for you, metered and slow,

has not occurred for me without hindsight:


it's just that I must look into the bag of the bee.

Your tears say you think you're not mate at all

for a pollendust swing in the past. But, love,


the dance of direction — love octagonally.


It's not a sense of pattern that you lack:

your making shows a certain glance ahead

and you're wild when the dew bedizens your hanging



Look, you say, look, with heat's suppress on your


But, love, I've loved before. Dew could rejoice

ten years ago in all the major modes.


You know this part of our complex design.

Don't be impatient. Flowers come again

new-dusted, and just because of a now and then

don't sting me to death or retract. You're doing



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