Eclipse

When I met you I was only

Bones

How I wore my bones on

The outside like a

Dress.

And tonight there is a super moon,

The blood moon, this lunar eclipse,

And I go outside to stand in the

Black sea

Of our driveway,

Looking up and

Ankle deep and

How I see part of the moon,

A misshapen moon between

The trees,

Like

A smooth and white patella

Bone,

A kneecap moon, I whisper

To our children, asleep and

For you, because you are away,

In a hotel room in New York City,

Thirty years, you are saying to

Me, over the telephone, now,

How this moon will not

Happen again for thirty

Years,

But nothing does, I tell

You, how nothing does,

And this is our marriage,

The moon outside or

How the years wrap like

Vessels around muscle

And tendon and, yes,

Bone,

Around us,

Around

All of the times I have heard

You say no and, then, yes,

And your voice is made of words,

Syllables and letters that connect

And break apart and reassemble

Like atoms,

Protons and neutrons,

Or us, I say,

How the years wrap around

Us,

Because how many times,

How many times has your

Hand reached for my face

In the dark,

Countless,

Like stars,

But how each time, each time

Is like the moon,

Only once and

Never again

The same.