The lights of the glass mansion shine in this September night,
a distant star, a tiny sun, a light of another life, not ours.
She in her red party dress. stockings, high heels off, running
her feet over the water of the darkened pool, singing a sad song.
Me in now untucked shirt, jacket and slacks, black socks,
glass of champagne, watching her, as if she were a fey come above.
The lightning bugs are long gone, and there’s quiet here, but for the hungry
insects and humming stars, and the peaceful fury of our wild hopes.
She is a child of the water, but the wormwood of this pool, or stinging
regrets that have made there home in it, but it’s all we have tonight.
I am a child of the air, of the warm autumn winds and winter gales,
one or the other, blink of an eye from September to February.
We walk hand in hand to the river, crystal and cold, and pure because
it’s teeth eat our blood and anything unguarded.
We strip naked and walk in, crying out with the chill, and the stars
are all the light of our cracked spirits, as we touch, we kiss.
Beneath the water, dark and velvet blue, one in the dark, in the silence,
coming up in an embrace, those stars in her eyelashes showing His Blessing.
We float, side by side, naked and shivering, watching the night sky above,
knowing we’ll be back her again, after the universe spins back to us.
She sings that song, that still prayer of yearning, for the sky, for love,
for a moment’s peace as The Devil makes dissonant all thoughts of tenderness.
And for a moment, our wild hopes are pure, and the hungry insects are full,
and the stars are enough, to light our way back to Eden, to each other.