Ursa Major by Joshua Wright

Ursa Major Joshua Wright

As the rain ate the honey moon, And was not sorry for it, The spot of blood blossomed brightly upon the white sheet. It was a sheet culled from the collection of one born under The sign of the ram, but The ones who mingled milky spurts with blood upon this fleece Were from the carousels of other zodiacs altogether. Brief reconfigurations of constellations at the threshold of night May yield treasures. Such treasures, it is true, found in the night, may rust By the morning time. Rust, it is true, may be beautiful to perceive, The alchemy of metal and memory, clear form And twilight mystery, But a rusty tool is not the best to use to dig a hole, Just as a dollar Buried in the snow Is not worth more Than a penny in the pocket. The tides of change will keep your boat afloat, But a river of honey Is sweeter than money. So may words configure themselves and reconfigure themselves, As a hero may configure and reconfigure himself, Though his heart is by a lover’s arrows wounded And rust gathers upon his breast.