Alone in the Rimming Moon

anam-cara-lynn

 

Sometimes we sit, alone

in the rimming moon. Our sighs move upward,

quelling cares that rise like smoke and buffeting our hands

with the bones of night.

 

Sometimes we sit, alone

in the startling dusk. Light-profusions

scamper like wayward souls and tickle our bones

with tales of mourning love.

 

Sometimes we sit, alone

in the meddling dawn. Mid-sentence laughing

from brooklet stars too shy for dancing

when noon arrives, shirtless and boasting.

 

Sometimes we sit, alone,

together in maudlin midnight’s tepid kiss, too quickly

passing to pass from view without leaving

her mark of satisfied leavings.

 

Sometimes we sit, alone

in the rimming moon. We compare eyes

and glance knowingly beyond

what they normally see: the other.

Painting, “Anam Cara” by Lynn Weekes Karegeanneas

 

Advertisements

6 thoughts on “Alone in the Rimming Moon

      1. I looked at it again, and it still hits me that way. I think it’s because ‘passing from view’ says it just as well as ‘passing to pass from view’. It stops the flow for me. ? I’m pretty presumptuous, I know. 😉

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s