West of the Moon, East of the Sun
Akin, somewhat
to childhood tale of avian maidens
molting downy wings in haste
lest mortal eyes espy them
bathe in waters silvered
by the lunar light,
and having laved would vanish
winging with the night winds,
to the vastness, infinite,
the stars, east of the sun,
west of the midnight moon.
For we,
like them, have shed our fabric
wings to swim in pools of dusty
tungsten light in rooms,
and having loved, would gather
plumage strewn in haste, preen,
part with furtive glances, both
to blend, diverge in traffic din,
the fumes, the dust swirling,
the smog, west of the moon,
east of the setting sun.
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