state of confusion
I cast my line to the northern night,
to catch the Aurora Borealis,
a child, shining a beacon of light
that dies upon blinking blind eyes.
Crescent bathed in earthshine,
sun trailing the ecliptic path,
Jupiter in the western skyline,
stellar show of clear contrasts.
Taking our places on blankets of green,
your supple shoulder, my pillow,
the seven sisters arrive on the scene,
all but Merope, hiding in shame.
A cone of light from a darkened dream,
The ides of March are upon us,
colors of claret, cobalt and citrine,
stars of ours, not of this cosmos.
Upon the seashore, Zeus did claim
and capture the fair Europa,
the starry white bull is all that remains
I fall, to sleep upon his shoulder.
© 2000 Corinne Bailey