Ellyn Lichvar



Close-eyed reflections,
stars over-exposed
by lunar eclipse. Standing
atop the furthest two rocks               
lined up in front
of the returning light—
you teach about
the face in the moon,
sexless guardian, and he
is less scared than you
would have been. Woken
from sleep to see this,
he will forget. Tell him
the other secrets now,
ones you won't whisper
later. Fading and reappearing
penumbra cast against
the side of the house,
slim realities, what he knows,
what he doesn't, like a squeeze
behind the eyes. Save him,
put him back. Go to sleep. 




This poem was written in the wake of the supermoon total lunar eclipse that occurred last September, and gives a nod to Plato's Allegory of the Cave. Because of dense cloud cover, I wasn't able to see the eclipse. But I stood and watched it anyway."