You fish between clouds tonight,
eyepiece
rolled to her full cycle,
catch
her in your wide net.
She
clocks eternity,
day-arc,
dark-swing,
dame
of the turning wheel,
charm
of the evening breeze,
cool
of the morning desert,
mistress
of deep seasons,
the
mover of lovers firmed by your scrying,
her
rise a slip in the night
where
she clings to the dropped sun’s orb.
I
watch you watch her ebb from the sky,
veined
hand fixing and twisting
on
that bright slave to her compelling lord,
mourner
of his drowned passions
fallen
over your hard world’s edge,
beyond
the thrust and suck of the tide.
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