Into the always mysterious air,
place of breath and wings,
the moon is rising
It reveals by its milky light
a dull gleam of wakeful eyes
The teeth of marauders
Outlines of mountains and trees–
enough to reassure
A path to itself, straight across the water
and then up
Where the owl’s nest is,
and its comings and goings
How the owl is its own shadow
and its shadow’s shadow
An expanse of field, whitened as if by tepid snow
The general in the square on his bronze horse
medaled with pigeon droppings
The beauty of a fish, if it lights on a fish
One bare arm of a soldier, dead on the field
His black blood
The cave of his open mouth
The sheen on a gun
The whitest statue in the churchyard
Moonlight in its mildness
like glib speech in what it leaves out
Like peace, which must overlook
so much
Winner of the Elinor Benedict Poetry Prize, this poem first appeared in Passages North.
—
Charlotte Muse lives in Menlo Park, California. Her poems have appeared in magazines and anthologies. She’s written five chapbooks and a full-length collection, In Which I Forgive the River (Broadstone Books). Recent awards include finalist for the Orchard Street Press Poetry Prize and a nomination for England’s Forward Prizes, both in 2023. She’s also won the Yeats Society of New York Poetry Prize, the Allen Ginsberg Award, and the Elinor Benedict Poetry Prize, among others.
