Eclipse
I watch the moon eclipse the sun,
Curving over it in half-light,
Draining its dazzling beams into obscurity.
The moon looks like a king,
Hoisting the dead-sun's crown above its head
The corona latticing over the sky.
It takes dominion—for a brief period—
Of the astral realms that were once warmed
By the explosive temper of an imposing star.
I can look up to the sky,
Unaided by filters or indirect projection,
And admire its curious vastness and vacuity.
I can notice the well painted colors and balance
Of all things—
How spaces defines what I see.
Just then,
As my eyes relax to the diminished, cooling shade,
The sun pushes the moon to the side,
Recapturing control of the day-time
And golden flows cascade down into each open orifice.
The inky tints of my pupils shrink, bleach and bun
White into blindness.
Now I don't see at all.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Added by Poetry Lover
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