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That, Winter Lunar Eclipse

In our backyard it is 14 degrees below zero
The air paralyzed like crystal glass
Laid flat on the metal slab of midnight,
Still, for its hammer autopsy.

My 18 year old son and I
Stand together amidst the dusted trees,
Staring straight up from here, a rocky surface,
To there, the soft eternity filled with universe.

The full moon is directly above us
And, rather than its usual white disc,
Hung flat against a wall like a keepsake dinner plate,

The moon is rimless, orange and spongy,
Fully eclipsed from the great shadow cast from the Earth,
As three dimensional as a balloon inflated with candles
Burning on the inside

Hovering

No longer in the sky, but suspended just below
Where the black night has lost its divide, its meaning
Where the bony palms of the scraping tree tops
Pass back and forth that orb of peach
And my son and I, we raise our hands as well
To just above our heads,
Waiting our turn to hold the moon

Swishing our mittens across this deep black mist
Of descended space

Our feet tugging free from our boots

Deer floating by from the backyard next door.

“I’ve never seen the moon like that before.”
I say to my son, and he replies, “Me neither, dad.”

My boy, I see his face, less its oval, relaxed yawn
More sharpened angled like a raven clean shaven
His hair a dream of fuzzy curls like Apollo
His hazel eyes even to me or, should I say, meeting me
With justified suspicion

A self portrait vandalized by art

Shape shifting time from fear to wisdom and back
Like a sword striking a shield over and over
Until the defender succumbs

His dad on his knees to the courage of this new boy
Freed to the orbits.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019




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