LIGHT COMING THROUGH THE SHAPE
OF THE MOON


1.

The lantern swung
at the end of its rope

the blue coat floated on the surface
my grandmother’s hair in long white strands

I was nine this is what I remember
spread out like a fan

in the blackness around her


2.

Her baby in her arms my sister falls again
this time down the stairs

this could be the solution
nip the sickness in the bud

but it’s not that simple have solutions
even entered Eva’s mind

my father and I load mother
and child into the car

the hospital is fifteen miles away

the baby bleeds through my coat
the cuffs of my shirt


3.

One step and Grandmother flies
laughing down the well

in this dream I fly too
above the strong man lowered down
everyone from miles around

can see his red shirt and his big red hands
empty now reaching

as my father his brow
suddenly smooth his hair jet black

helps him out onto the ground
I see the blue fields all around

and my grandmother everywhere
as she sinks flies runs


4.

The squirrels fall furry bundles from their nests my brother staggers stomps one dead sometimes they are rabid sometimes they bite my father hangs way back behind us in the brush “Put your gun down Mack” I yell “I’ve got to piss” I don’t want to turn my back to my brother I don’t want to face him either he might as well be shooting in the dark he looks my way says in disbelief “I’m running out of shells” “I’m out too” I lie “Go get some” he says “Go get them yourself” I say my father breaks through the brush Mack turns aims has the hammer back “Better hurry” he says “I’m getting anxious” my father pale as a dove says nothing the barrel six feet from his face I turn my back and wait for the shot to open a hole in my head run all the way home bring my brother back the shells


5.

The angel baby flies
his eyes my grandmother’s

bright as half dollars

we could buy the world
the angel baby and me

the angel baby sired
by an average man

could be a god
he could heal the sick

he could say
with his gruff bass voice:

Move over old man,
I’m taking the wheel


6.

Fire in the house the mare runs
the length of the fence my father

will say Mother did it
out of carelessness

madness I say
my father and I carry bucket

after bucket from the well
in our drive my mother

is raking out the walnuts
to keep the car from miring under

the mare runs the length of the fence
while my sister watches from the yard

as the fire busts out the kitchen glass
the house is burning the mare runs the length

of the fence the car is dead my mother
spreads the walnuts with a rake

my father and I carry bucket
after bucket from the well into the house

the mare runs the length of the fence
turns runs the length of the fence again


7.

My father is under the hood
of his car from the yard I hear
Baby, Baby, Baby
the radio plays my sister
is behind the wheel Baby,
Baby, Baby the bullfrogs holler
my father prays for help
with the car I pray
that our minds will be eased
no help will come
I’m staring at the moon
Baby, Baby, Baby
the doctor has said
we should let Eva forget
I say we shouldn’t


8.

I find Mack
crying in the woods

no apologies
are necessary

he gives none

the snow is falling
and the night sky bright

suddenly we are boys again
snow in the south

we’ve no mittens
there is nothing

to hunt nothing
left to kill


9.

The angel baby flies into my room

he takes me up to Heaven

we walk around in the clouds
until we find the ragged outhouse

God in his glory

the light comes through the shape
of the moon

the baby calls God’s name
starts cursing and yelling

we try to tear the door from its hinges

God keeps quiet
the door stays locked

in Heaven all we hear
are bullfrogs


10.

The angel baby flies
through the church’s stained glass

the choir sings When the Roll
Is called Up Yonder

the plate is passed
all those quarters and half dollars
Baby’s hundred eyes

light the faces of Eva, Mack,
my mother

the choir sings

Baby dips his finger
in the communion

he lands on the pew
in front of me

smears the blood
across my cheek


11.

The lantern swings
at the end of its rope

in the blackness below
Grandmother lies on her back
a smirk on her face

as she sinks ever so slowly
one palm up

until all that’s left
is the flat of her hand

she is waving
no wait


12.

My father and I sit by the fire
and put away a fifth

we’ve locked the doors

the fire dies down
until blue flames are all
that’s left

Mack with his shotgun
Mack with his shells

all night we listen to him
fire into the dark

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 


Alan May

Port Silver
An early version of "Light Coming through the Shape of the Moon" appeared in Willow Springs.