Benjamin Chambers

THREE VIEWS OF MOONCHANCE

1.

She is new to town and
We walk together through the unfractured night
To join the quiet gawkers on the hilltop
Who bite their lips
As if what scuds in the waters of heaven, nearly invisible,
Were the white knucklemeat of God.

2.

She turns away soon, disappointed.
It's only the shadow of our old house passing over
A shiny bottle-end mired in the duck pond.

3.

She lowers her head against the wind
While behind and above her hangs a face half-glimpsed
Through the darkened window of a car passing in the rain.
Moonlight hisses to the pavement around us like fine sand,
Blessing all those unpromised moments
Shared by people who will never meet again.

Location:	Portland, Oregon
Email:	wapshot1@attbi.com
Publications:	Foreign Service Journal, Mississippi Review, MANOA, William & Mary Review, Madison Review, Willow Review, Portland Review, Cream City Review, etc.
Other:	Former fiction editor of the Chicago Review

- August 2003 - Three Views of Moonchanc Huadiao Soliloquy Glass Houses how to skin a cat My Son, When He Is Sick Buckets Red Velvet for Four Days: a Husband Section 2: An excerpt from The Last Canyon Focus: The August Stars