Poems April 1997
June night
The tail of the Scorpion
a light-static
over the road,
an old barn water-logged.
Then wind, northwest,
the clouds baled to the east,
and now the whole
covenant of stars:
the Dolphin’s jack;
the Dragon we traced at school;
the Lady in Chains,
who suffered, who was fair;
and stunned at last
the scythes of Herculean limbs.
And here the shut
petals of chaste houses,
the last fall of rain
left to the pines.
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This article originally appeared in The New Criterion, Volume 15 Number 8, on page 37
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