by Gideon Burton
With rowing force she oars across the sea
Of twilight, launches toward the deeper dark
That cannot mask a visage pocked and free
Of beauty’s hues, vast surface pale and stark.
And yet she swims in freedom, single, pure,
This roaming eye commanding watchful looks
That hangs so barren, navigating sure,
A sextant sage, no need for map or books.
She is so open, demigoddess bright
Yet coyly in her phases hides her face.
She asks to be first in, then out of sight.
In love with her, we fear her witching gaze.
Perhaps to stare too long might drive me mad;
If so, in her insanity I'm glad.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License. Feel free to copy, imitate, remix, or redistribute this poem as long as you give proper acknowledgment of authorship. Photo: flickr - d.norwood