ECLIPSE by Chaz Brenchley
An eclipse is sheltering,
the shadow of another body
between you and a hard sun.
Lovers eclipse one another
standing in each other’s light
and in that timeless twilight
no birds sing
so they can hear the beat of each other’s blood against the silence.
And is it any wonder
that we should chase eclipses of our own
to snatch a taste of it
and feel obscurely threatened by the size of it
the rush of it
the moon’s shadow and how we run to stand within it
at that place, that time
that angle to the sun?
And it’s not about the sun
though we pretend with pinhole cameras
it’s about what comes between the sun and us
graceful, monumental, undelayed
the urgency of moment
and it trails its shadow like a disregarded veil
that falls across us because we have run to be there
but it’s not about the shadow, nor the light.
It’s about us, as it always is, our bodies in their perilous orbits
and how we chase that touch of perfect balance
eye to eye
lit only by each other.
It’s all about eclipses, in the end.
Lovers have always known this. We can learn.