Ah, April 1, the day where nothing is quite as it seems.I'm not really a fan. But it is also the first day of National Poetry Month, which I am a big fan of, so in honor here's one of my favorite poems:
At sixteen I believed the moonlight
could change me if it would.
I moved my head
on the pillow, even moved my bed
as the moon slowly
crossed the open lattice.
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I wanted beauty, a dangerous
gleam of steel, my body thinner,
my pale face paler.
I moonbathed
diligently, as others sunbathe.
But the moon's unsmiling stare
kept me awake. Mornings,
I was flushed and cross.
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↑It was on dark nights of deep sleep
that I dreamed the most, sunk in the well,
and woke rested, and if not beautiful,
filled with some other power.
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↑The Well, Denise Levertov
Listening to Eux Autres.
