The Moon Hankers

THE MOON HANKERS Though none can comfort me, nor sage, nor oak Nor heart of bronze made in a silver hoop With gem encrusted golden rod to poke Out my eyes in mystery’s final scoop - Flanged with crimson, dreaming the polite And suave boulvardiers of a nation To feel myself what precious little light Man’s first step has had upon my station - I’d seek you out, you sapphire of the seam Until you’d say I’d swallow back the sea - How like a comfortless queen I’d deem Myself as such heaven bent to me, Leaving me lonely in the western sky Beckoning you hither for eternity. By Rosemarie Rowley published IN MEMORY OF HER 2008