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White Night

ISSUE:  Winter 1982

All night
 I float
   in the shallow ponds
    while the moon wanders

 bone white,
   among the milky stems.

I saw her hand reach
 to touch the muskrat’s
   small sleek head
    and it was lovely, oh,

I don’t want to argue anymore
 about all the things
   I thought I could not
    live without! Soon

the muskrat
 will glide with another
   into their castle
    of weeds, morning

will rise from the east
 tangled and brazen,
   and before that

and beautiful
 hurricane of light
   I want to flow out
    across the mother

of all waters,
 I want to lose myself
   on the black
    and silky currents,

   the tall lilies
    of sleep.


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