Eclipse of the Moon by Mary Susanah Robbins - HTML preview
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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