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Milky Moon

by Lionel E. Deimel

A milky moon shown feebly behind the moving clouds,

Hanging above the air perfumed by rain steaming from the warm sidewalks.


Its visage changed with unaccustomed haste;

Its form raced through phases unknown to students of the sky.


The dark clouds portended storms of fury not yet spent,

Of darkness that, at midnight, would eclipse a milky moon.



The images here are not imagined ones. I saw the moon in question in the parking lot of my local supermarket. The full moon, seen indistinctly through the clouds, seemed vaguely menacing. A friend suggested that the poem is an allegory, but, if it is, the subject is buried deep in my subconscious. Read into it what you will.

When I saw the moon, the phrase “milky moon” came immediately to mind. I did not, of course, mean white, as in milk glass, but having the appearance of the opalescent glass often used in representational church windows at the turn of the last century. Anyway, I liked the alliteration, even if “opalescent moon” might have been a more correct literal description.

The poem was finished 9/21/2008, but I had started it a few days before.

— LED, 9/22/2008

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