Poem for Early Morning, Not an Aubade
       

Wonderfully established, the sun across my plate,
the white plate of morning strewn with stars
I had forbidden to go home last night,

and wonderfully next their act, the sun and stars,
wonderfully together how they mate
the way the plate has waited for, turning its pears,

its peaches to this moment, longing, longing,
the moon, a sure essential instrument,
singing along as an accompaniment;

yet corning to this instant in my life again
I'm starving for this moment to be mine,
possible even, since always, I'm outside

transcribing the sky as it disarms the earth,
celestial fractures, dismemberments,
everywhere heaven, lightning in my hands—

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Copyright © 2018 Peter Cooley All rights reserved
from World Without Finishing
Carnegie Mellon University Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission