December 21, 2007

A Body Distant Brought Near

Sitting on the moon's rim
all that can be seen
is her mountains, flatland,
a pale asphalt.

you pull me from my
We view a new crescent
from our roof.
You tweak the lens
of your telescope,
steer me into

the ocular
where in the black velvet void,
the moon's inner arc
is a filigree
of bright white lace.

—Kathleen Adcock
previously appeared in Moon, Trumpet and Guitar,
and Grease and Tears (Function at the Junction)

Posted by dwaber at December 21, 2007 04:23 PM