POEM INTERRUPTED BY LACK OF LIGHT

I

Elsewhere rain blew in. There was nothing left to say, and no one would shut up. Just a few miles away, newspapers were repeating their dirt. We stood amid the gas station’s well-lit squalor, eating ice cream. We would have walked, but where we were, there was nowhere to go.

II

Here, where

the split wood burns

who would think

that this might be

the last good time

with war

and you

growing older

but for now

asleep beside me

after how many pages

by lantern light

of your book

and mine

the Northern Cross

overhead

Lake Erie

shushing

beyond the trees

III

When the coffee boiled over

it was done

hot, strong, full of grounds

good drunk beneath a moon

busy washing out

night’s bright clothes

your breathing steady and deep

an echo

of the lake

your sleeping body

warm, your face

entirely beautiful

IV

the lantern

dims, gutters

campfire collapses

orangely upon itself

despite moonlight

Aldebaran

shining

Saturn rising

the night quiet

only the lake

and something

in the underbrush