Poem: Eclipse

A penumbra of white like halogenYou appeared in my dreams last night,

Brightly, as though a master electrician had flipped a switch and

Illuminated the Medieval courtyard I was inhabiting at the time.

The unenlightened believed it was the sun that had turned the air

White like halogen.

But I could see on my special screen — the one provided by the engineer — that

The cleansing glow was from the moon,

Round and pockmarked and insistent.

I cannot say how the story ends,

Because to my dismay

I won’t be there.

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