I look across the housetops,
through the leaves in a black pattern:
where are you hidden, moon?

Surely I saw her,
broad-bosomed and golden,
coming toward us.

 

 

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Material from
POEMS 1918-1975: THE COMPLETE POEMS OF CHARLES REZNIKOFF Copyright 1977
by Marie Syrkin Reznikoff and reprinted with the permission of Black Sparrow Press.