Eclipse of the Moon by Mary Susanah Robbins - HTML preview

Here

the best thing’s to be quiet and listen.

the hush-hush of tires in the rain,

the saying rain, word for word

into the rhododendron.

the sound that’s a color of pleasant flesh

passing by pleasant flesh.

the crows at 4:30 cawing, “some place else.”

those other things you want

aren’t here. violent attachments,

explosions of language, force of wanting.

there’s no want here. everyone’s flesh

is full as if pregnant. the little feelings,

the light vowels. in summer it’s like a beach.

drifting like sand up the streets

wearing this earliest dress.

nothing to shock or chagrin.

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