Out on the Deck at Sirens

When I was a child
the moon was solid rock
captive to laws of physics
Father talked about.

In my thirteenth year
it worked itself free,
moon a loose coin
turning above my bed.

When I was twenty
we could buy moonlight.
Nights at the Fillmore I burned
brighter than the strobes.

And here I am, witched silly
by a spatter of light,
wanting what I've always wanted,
old enough to get it right.


Poems by Sharon Fain:

Snowy Owl
Getting It Right
A Birth
Waiting for the Bear
Screen Saver
Losing the Drought
Isla Mujeres: Weeks Before the Breakdown
On Hearing Jack Gilbert Talk About Death
One Month at Casa Sotovento
Out on the Deck at Sirens
Waiting to Hear About the Biopsy
Elvis at Chiang Mai
High Desert
Letters From Sarajevo
On Seeing the Place Where I First Made Love

TIMES TEN: An Anthology of Northern California Poets