how we all stood at attention, saluting the morning sun
as the mist parted, and we watched the bright orb
slipping into a nightgown of stars.
How we gasped as the stars reasserted their raiments
and the goddess was well pleased with her handiwork.
The black flower of the sun blossomed
in the wilderness of the sky as the moon covered her face,
and the solar flares became petals, a corona of fire.
Oh how we were rendered speechless,
uttered primal guttural phrases as Bailey’s Tears
dripped stringed pearls of light into the darkness.
During totality, you could see with the naked eye
the silhouette of the mountains of the moon.
And time itself stood still. Even the raucous wind fell silent.
And when the fabled Diamond Ring appeared,
the couple on the beach, draped in feathered cloaks,
exchanged vows and leis. It was either a good time
or a very foolish time to get married. And why not?
The moon and the sun continued their odd love affair
and the confused birds all went back to sleep.
The waves stopped conversing, the wind and fell silent.
I sat in a tidepool where bright fish gathered,
cloaking me with their yellowed brilliance
that faded into grey in the darkness, I held them
in my arms as if I were the madonna of fishes,
while sea turtles hovered like islands or planets.
I took the flower from my hair, a night blooming cereus,
and let it go into the sea, waited for the light to return.
7/20. Write On! with Terri Glass
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