• Tricia D. Wagner

Sun Poems #2

The moon is a magician.

I didn’t know.

With a swipe of a veil, he unmasked the sun.

Eclipsed, they say – occulted black.

Oh, no.

Revealed. Unconstructed by skin.


The moon rent a hole in the sky

from whence the real sun crawled.

No even sphere is he –

no tame droplet of light.

The wild sun is thorn-headed and raven-faced.

Slipping out his cage, his eyes found mine.

Swift as the strike that bared the solar core,

the sun unspun me with a glance.

No more than what a casual stranger might offer,

I am dissolved, a vapor shaped like woman.

Beyond a pane of assumptive knowledge

and feigned control,

flashes a fire whose rage no sleeper may perceive.

Yet I am knocked awake.

His gift to me is knowledge.

Coronal fire strikes my skin.

The solar crown pours twilight into my open eyes.

I have seen, and now I know.

I am so very small.


© 2015 by Tricia D. Wagner. Proudly created with Wix.com

This site was designed with the
website builder. Create your website today.
Start Now