Here comes the sun
She runs to Earth like a dog
Much too forgiving of the hungry dark
And much too forgetful of the remnants of glass
All the lovers of moonlight will no longer croon
My, I have pity for the moon.
The moon lets the night swallow her whole
The sun takes her lead, and they chip at her gold
Each day is a hunt that she will set upon
Then again, she will rise and pretend nothing’s lost
The cyclical nature of time is her tomb
My, I have pity for the moon.
Each star makes a simmering and sensible grave
So the planets have reason not to avert their gaze
The lines they would tattoo have been left with the dead
Like honeyed wax, the sun and moon bled
They will all crack as all china things do
My, I have pity for the moon.
Elspeth Dyce
Hamilton, Qld
