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.
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.