Oct 27, 2008


Written by Maureen Alsop

Read by Adam Clay

A seraph flings the window wide
and the walls, like two moth wings, shimmer
into green flames. A cranium-white moon
pulls the lovers backward into the cobalt air. You read
the small lanterns of their eyes
to glimpse what must be

a place of aftermath. A bottle of champagne
emptied into the wet grass. Everything
in the village quivers with the lover’s music.

They join the night —
settle over archway, over stream —
into that pasture where one brightness
trades another.