Dimensionless One, can you hear me?
Me with the moon ears, caught
in ice branches?
Beneath the sky’s long house,
beneath the old snake tree,
I pray to see even a fragment
a deserted street,
a staircase leading
to the balcony
of your collarbone.
Beloved King of Stars, I cannot
contain my animal movements.
For you I stay like a mountain.
For you I stay like a straight pin.
But in the end, the body leaves us
its empty building.
as a root cellar. Wasps crawling
in sleeves. I sleep
with my tail over
my face, enflamed.
Oh Great Cataloguer
of Snow Leaves, I pray
that you may appear
and carry every piece
of my fur in your hands.
By Catherine Pierce
The harvest moon hangs heavy,
a gourd. Your desires heave inside you
like a blood wave. Ignore the cat
pulling on your trousers. Ignore
the cicadas bossing you from the elms.
See yourself in this hot gold light.
You are the brother in love with Caddy.
You are the idiot son. Your mouth dumb.
Your mind lucent. Everything you want
sharp as the cat’s bite at your ankle. You pull
your foot back. A yowl, pointed as teeth.
The moon is what will fall on you.
28 Short Lectures: Mary Ruefle | Woodberry Poetry Room (by Harvard)