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BARNES HILL
by Arthur Vogelsang
Fog but bright
And the king’s mistress wants to hold hands
But they may not. She wants
An eclipse of the sun,
As in Spain,
But is misguided about the thin dark
As if it could be complete blackness.
If he would hold hands in the darkness
She would fuck him for two or three minutes.
As it happens
There is an eclipse in the fog.
It is not dark.
It is darker but exhilarating,
Nearly euphoric, not euphoric, and, like that,
Bright fog, nice thin dark.
The king understands a public show of affection.
He does not think human emotions are much of a mystery.
A flock of birds turns abruptly,
Lower than the hill the group has climbed.
The birds are afraid, he knows,
As he knows for sure the eclipse is benign
But he does not know why.
Copyright © 2003 by Arthur Vogelsang
From Left Wing of a Bird, Sarabande Books, Inc., Louisville