Adrianne Marcus is the author of The Moon is a Marrying Eye (Red Clay Press), Faced With Love (Copper Beech Press), and Child of Earthquake Country (New World Press), as well as three chapbooks: Lying, Cheating and Stealing (Pteradactyl Press), Journeys, Destinations (Small Poetry Press, 1996), and Magritte's Stones (Lapwing Publications, Belfast, Ireland).
"Beyond the Garden" featured at VerseDaily
The Rain Is Full of Ghosts Tonight
Sonnet XLII Edna St. Vincent Millay
Dark fog and rain; a hole in the sky As the night comes pouring in, thick Silver, and the sound of drops hitting the Asphalt is the sound of a million coins Dissolving.
In another country There are children, begging for coins On a night the moon turns silver. We could make love here But the ghosts between us are real.
Now off the icy coast of Alaska; the rain, more snow Than rain, frosts the silver air. We stand outside on the Tiny verandah while the glaciers calve In the fog, hear the small Explosions as the slivered chunks Enter the sea.
Later you sleep while Outside the long twilight of summer Refuses the dark. That silver streak In the sky could be anywhere, Any northern land, nameless, Where they summon the ghosts of past Lives, of ancestors and lovers, into Being, chanting remarkable vowels Like Kaddish.
How do we remember except with water? Ferryboats crossing from Bainbridge Island to Seattle, Bridging lovers, those we have lost To time and death. Do the dead feel The dampness we give them, those quick Tears that come from our deep bodies, As we call up the faces that are Permanently silver, stamped like coins In our memory? Vintage years. The young Who never imagine growing old The pillow empty of indention Wet with damp loss, the body holding Emptiness just in reach.
And the joy of memory: of thick rain In the November afternoon, the water sluicing Down in silver rivers speckled with Pebbles that mark the gravestones Of those we refuse to forget: The thousand names of water.