Toutes Les Lumieres

The trees touch overhead.
Stars are hot in the locked
angles of branches. City
lights are in the far distance. Overhead,
a lamp snows light
onto the street, There is
a moon. You stand
in the white circle
of its light. You wear
a white lace gown
and you are gesturing towards me
with one hand. Your shadow
falls behind you,
and to your right a red house
bulks, all its windows
lighted. Plants grow
in the windows, and the light
is torn by leaves that are
like knives. The edge
of the circle in which
you stand is set
with burning oil lamps.
There are blue shadows
between your fingers, at
your throat, but your face
is pale as the moon,
and you are smiling
at me. But I stand
in the shadows at this end
of the street, and do not
move, because behind you,
at the far end of the street,
I can see a woman
with her back turned,
her shadow towards you.
She is standing in a circle
of white light, she wears
a white gown, and she is
holding out her hand
to someone I cannot see.