Return to Top of Page
Menu
  • Close
  • About Us
  • Past Issues
  • Contributors
  • Donate
  • Opportunities
  • Staff
  • Submissions
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Instagram
Literary Mama
  • Current Issue
  • Archives
  • Departments
  • Blog

Poetry | November 2003

Eclipse

By Marguerite Guzman Bouvard

This strange dusk at noon, masking
a fire that can sear our vision
with its intensity, the radio warning us
to shield our eyes.
It is noon for you also,
my daughter, and darkness travels
across your fierce light.
I make a pin-hole for a few words;
“How are you?” I ask lightly,
as if I could journey through space,
as if I could touch that raw
flaming. I am your mother
but I cannot pull the moon
down from the sky.

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Share This Page

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Email
  • Copy Link

Marguerite Guzman Bouvard

Learn More

Subscribe to Our Newsletter

Don't miss out on Literary Mama news and updates

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Instagram
  • RSS

© 2021 Literary Mama | Search Site | About Us | Staff | Submissions | Privacy Policy