Moon Sugar — Frederick Livingston
Sudden and thunderous here, darkness falls
/ down a flight of stairs, spilling invisibility,
reminding us how slowly light is coming. Too long ago
/ tar-filthy entrepreneur and his tar-filthy apprentice
planted a water wheel in the river, were seen
/ dragging wires through the village like endless tails.
Postholes were dug like prayers, fulfilled
/ by unwary ankles and mosquito brood.
Now moon has found her first competitor
/ glowing at the end of a eucalyptus pole
dim as rumors of phones we will charge,
/ light termites will mistake for moons
as we slap them into bowls to fry
/ when air is electric with rain-smell and wings,
or a TV, if we dare to dream. Rain is heard
/ before it is seen. Thirsty earth applause
roars loud as pop music from dry-season weddings.
/ Before these flatulent subwoofers echoed
over hills, some remember radios. My neighbor remembers
/ pounding feet and goat-skin drums.