The Moon Hankers
THE MOON HANKERS
Though none can comfort me, nor sage, nor oak
Nor heart of bronze made in a silver hoop
With gem encrusted golden rod to poke
Out my eyes in mystery’s final scoop -
Flanged with crimson, dreaming the polite
And suave boulvardiers of a nation
To feel myself what precious little light
Man’s first step has had upon my station -
I’d seek you out, you sapphire of the seam
Until you’d say I’d swallow back the sea -
How like a comfortless queen I’d deem
Myself as such heaven bent to me,
Leaving me lonely in the western sky
Beckoning you hither for eternity.
By Rosemarie Rowley
published IN MEMORY OF HER 2008
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