3 poems by Ian Ellasante

Diana and the face of the moon

another night you are          . turning your face

………………….. i am already gone

and you are throwing stones        . Diana
swearing never ….. swearing never …… swearing never

………………………………………… again

just say what you are trying to say

this is one giant leap Diana
there’s a man on the moon       . yes i see

there’s a new man           . here now

…. and i know how you must feel     . but

turn your face       . on me
turn your face       . to me
turn to face            . me
public face/private face

 …….. i still see you Diana       . turning both

for one night       . see me

……………………. see me again

strap on your boots girl and lace
‘em up tight          . c’mon
slog through this gravity with me baby:
i think i never said that        . loudly enough

…………. and it turns out it’s in the details like that

truth is        . i dropped this request
into the box with so many others
i asked the sky to hide you           . at least for now

………………………. keep you dark and far
………. and behold there you are           . dark and very far

and still every night

i am looking for you girl

craning my neck        . still swiveling my head

into every revolution
around a low-slung orbit
that looks a bit like yours

  …….. and i hear myself say aloud

……………………………… stop     . just stop it

truth is        . maybe i get sentimental for that

……………. same-old lonely satellite

…………………… the same-old orbit girl

from a tree, at the moon : Diana

last night i dreamed i led a man
drunk from a bar     . left him
then swaying in the middle of a dark street
under a dim streetlight under a waning autumn moon

patted his shoulder    . said hey man excuse me for a moment

and went to climb a rough-barked tree

…………………… there
in a cradle of thick limbs

i drew               . my knees to my chest

and wasting no time

……………………. my love
i howled your name         . i really did

i howled your name        . again
i wailed your name        .  until
my fledgling voice broke         . until it satisfied me good

until i glimpsed your ankles       . your pink-soled

………………………………………….. bare feet     . brown

you sleeping        . curled and half-covered

…………………….. in crisp fallen leaves
on the other side of someone’s wooden fence

….. between us:         . bent rusted nails

sharp weathered pickets
your deep and deliberate slumber

this vague night

a flood of corners : Diana

i am stumbling     . in this rising tide
………………………between the two chairs in our bedroom

 …. from your two open hands          . surges a wave

 . ……. to crash against my chest

………….. it is a flood of corners Diana
these seconds that drip viscously down the face

……… of the broken clock on my side of the bed

these blood-wet moments that fling and lodge

  ……………………………….. into us and the walls

i remember well            . remember

you started this             . no     . you started this

…………………..no           . you

still        . i’m stooping in the next room just through the door

snatching my eyeglasses        . from the floor

…………….. as if it matters
 ……………. i place them atop the bridge of my nose
…………….. settling them between my ears and head    . just so

i imagine my glasses drifting slowly from my face

and coming to rest exactly diagonally from here

……………… as if it matters

as if it doesn’t matter why

you         . with arms and hands thrashing
  …………………….. . in arcs bigger than our bodies

 …………….. . like wet and heavy wings    . flapping blindly    . Diana

and me      . with hands and arms of transitional

weight and tentative strength      . missing     . and reaching

………………………………… in spite of myself

 ………… among the words that are lost

…………. i imagine are stop     . stop just stop     .  this

straining through clenched teeth
oh   . i know    . that i am already gone