Before the Moon Rose

In the late September light crows were bold, crisp
outlines sketched on power lines, above roofs.

Afternoon flocks of gulls formed and reformed over
the harbour; fraying white knots of hunger.

Before the moon rose I moved pale and weightless as
its light; my gravity repealed by joy in your laughter.

Late at night, after leaving, I still heard crows
in the distance—as wide awake, boisterous as me.

I slept through the morning, woke to crows
rasping across the sky, still defying gravity.

About John MacKenzie

I'll mumble for ya. Poetry, plus most things quantifiable: science, neuroscience, memory, epistemology, baseball. And so on.
This entry was posted in Art is lies, Autumn, Charlottetown, Crows, Ghazal, Gulls, Harbour, John MacKenzie, Language, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, The Moon, The Sea and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Mumble back at me

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s