for Hannah
And now we are
Joy-riding
Over an eclipse!
In the rhombus
Of moonlight,
In the insistence
Of the sun,
We are not tricked
Into seeing
Our complacency.
You will walk
Through the shadows
Of vowels.
You will step
Into the shoes
Of the dead
For awhile.
Your little house
Of a sleeping
Faerie garden
Will open into
Words, and you
Will stretch
Forth your hand
To take some
Of them with you
While you leave
The rest behind,
Like an old theater
That plays your
Favorite movie,
Which snaps like
A newsreel
And tangles into piles
You pick up
And carry with
You, straight into
The harvest moon
On the horizon
Of your sleep.
