“He thinks the moon is a small hole at the top of the sky,
proving the sky quite useless for protection. “ Elizabeth Bishop, “The Man-Moth”
Astigmatism flattened what was coming
At me, wide load, giant silo, creamy
And perfectly round. For a moment, I was the Man-Moth,
Understanding what I saw, but not
As what it was.
The sunrise in the rear-view mirror,
Crepuscular rays pulling electric gray
From pewter clouds: for sure a religious calendar,
As my old friend Dennis used to say.
I’ve been forgetting lately what day it is,
What time, or what semester, fall or spring,
And right before my alarm went off this morning,
I dreamed that I had dawdled so long I was
More than an hour late. I woke up relieved.
Blessed are those who have seen and yet believed.