A. Marie/The Larkspur Horne

The Larkspur Horne

Remind me, as I watch this eclipse through a saltine, witness
the pinpricks of sunlight in tandem get covered by the moon,
how in Hellenistic times these two were interchangeable, brother
and sister of the same bloodline circling, remarking to Earth
of its self-righteousness, of its needs, of its tenderness and vicious
activities, how destiny is reactive, fate unsealed
and likely to spill out on the floor.

On my deck I watch the slip
of darkness over an eye, and I envision two siblings
embracing, catching up on one another’s lives, Moon discussing
with Sun the craziness of work, how their parents still pester them
to stop by or at least call, how Pluto never writes, Antares and
Regulus still stubborn as ever.

As they sit in the sky and have their talk, I notice a veneer over the world.
The sky is cold looking, the shadows long and curving…

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