George Held ----- five poems

Total Eclipse

(August 28, 2007)

Chasing the blue moon

entering total eclipse,

down West 11^th Street

toward the river,

passing Schnabel’s coral-red tower,

eclipsing the view

of the Hudson and the horizon,

and “Thar she blows!” –

about 20 degrees

above the buildings

on the Jersey shore,

the elusive eclipse

dragging in the dawn

as the moon sets

behind Jersey City

and the sun lightens

the broad river

and tugs a smile

from my sleepy face.

Meaningless as eclipses go,

this one sticks

in my memory

like a Vincent

van Gogh.

Menses

When a blue moon or a black

moon occurs—two full moons

or two new in one month—

              

I’m likely to have two menses

that month, and why not? –

my periods are powerful

as the moon’s. Think I can’t

influence the tides or drive

men mad? Ask my lovers.

How many

of your friends,

these days,

would you

entrust

with your life?

With your wife?

The Gone Moon

       for Cher

What if the moon disappeared

and left us bereft

of its cyclical luminosity?

What if the new moon

stopped renewing and left

the sky black:

no more crescents, halfs,

fulls, or lunar eclipses:

no more moonlit walks,

reflections on the pond,

companion in the night sky?

But those born after

would never know the difference:

and the poets among them

might be more, er, down-to-earth.

New Moon

The man in the moon

Isn’t there anymore:

Since the first moon landing

Cast him into deepest space

There’s no room at the inn

For him or other fanciful figures:

Little kids now fixate

On the star-spangled pixels

Of a black sky-like screen

That bright images fill

Like stars the night sky

Of the new moon.