Everythingís in a trance of Moonlight
ó Theodore Deppe
The Mís of couples walk the glowing streets, and in the square, the fountainís a bouquet of broken mirrors. I sway slightly, glass pressed to lips, hearing in my head the tune of a song whose name I canít remember. Rustle of wheat and silk skirt. Shadow of an oak. Faint stirring of a child in its sleep. I might begin to float or sing out loud, or my spirit leave my body and shimmer toward elsewhere. This is a moon that changes things. The cypress are alive with it, their branches tremble in a thrill of dark greenery. Even worms must feel a stirring where they tunnel, a tremor like the shiver after the bellís gong strikes.
Currently an Associate Professor at Georgia State University, Beth Gylys has published two award-winning collections of poetry: Spot in the Dark (Ohio State UP 2004) and Bodies that Hum (1999 Silverfish Review Press), and her work has appeared in many journals and magazines.