White Night

All night

I float

in the shallow ponds

while the moon wanders

burning,

bone white,

among the milky stems.

Once

I saw her hand reach

to touch the muskrat’s

small sleek head

and it was lovely, oh,

I don’t want to argue anymore

about all the things

I thought I could not

live without! Soon

the muskrat

will glide with another

into their castle

of weeds, morning

will rise from the east

tangled and brazen,

and before that

difficult

and beautiful

hurricane of light

I want to flow out

across the mother

of all waters,

I want to lose myself

on the black

and silky currents,

yawning,

gathering

the tall lilies

of sleep.