Full Moon and Little Jessica
… after Ted Hughes, and remembering Jess’s childhood
A black winter night, and through cold panes suburbs are silently freezing –
And you watching.
Next door’s cat slides, soft as fallen snow,
Past the window. Black trunks hide the fence
For which it crouches, to spring from hence.
Men are going home, and women, out there on southbound roads and train lines you can’t see –
A long unspooling of London workers,
Blind, indifferent stream.
“It’s a moony night,” you observe.
The moon hangs full, its silver face bright – riposte to a sunny day
As you point, all logic