I KNOW

                    The definition of beauty is easy;

                    it is what leads to desperation.

                                                                                         —VALÉRY

I know the moon is troubling;

Its pale eloquence is always such a meddling,

Intrusive lie. I know the pearl sheen of the sheets

Remains the screen I’ll draw back against the night;

I know all of those silences invented for me approximate

Those real silences I cannot lose to daylight . . .

I know the orchid smell of your skin

The way I know the blackened path to the marina,

When gathering clouds obscure the summer moon—

Just as I know the chambered heart where I begin.

I know too the lacquered jewel box, its obsidian patina;

The sexual trumpeting of the diving, sweeping loons . . .

I know the slow combinations of the night, & the glow

Of fireflies, deepening the shadows of all I do not know.