Sunday, August 26, 2012

Gwyn McVay

Air and Space 

“Thou know’st the mask of night is on my face”

Moonmommy, photoscoped, holds up
her hands in a wanewaxing gesture.
I was put in my coat by night, taken out
to the observer story --
Look! Passing
of earth before moon, of Venus
before Jupiter, “at lovers’ perjuries
they say Jove laughs,”
  every transit,

every eclipse. How could a man
tromp on that flat thing?
     Mommy, I want
to hold all the light. I kneel and buzz
at her feet with my new rocket.
Was that crumpled can what they flew in?
Yes, dear. In the comics, Snoopy
went first. But poor squashed Apollo

really did meet the cold moon far away.
Yes, dear. She follows you too.


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