DAILY Under the staggering gaze of the full moon, Her face the face I love Reveals cold weight of winter Illuminating purple snow And hills where geese wait. Her round largess at the horizon Sets off shrill squawking Silhouettes rise across her redolence. Do angels fly on such nights? Lovely as swans— white on white, Unseen, except as reflection. After the hill, the geese, the angels, We stare face to face She turns not from my scarring, The beauty-less form I shadow. Her white breath softens my face Her frozen light caresses my hair Daring me to reveal more.
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