POEMS
Two poems
by
Philip Levine
TALK TO THE MOON
Late , and the house
slept , except
for me. The night
had climbed the whole way
and turned toward
dawn when I asked
the moon to come down
and settle in the palm
of my left hand. I
must have nodded off
because suddenly
there was the eucalyptus
in the gray light
and two jays
squabbling at the foot
and the jewels
of the grass burned
like iron . So many
words have gone up
like smoke in fog
and come back
with no rain, no bird ,
no branch, have
come back
in the numbing light
to squawk
