Lunar Epigraphs

by Gerry Murphy

One
after Richard Tillinghast

The full moon afloat
in the southern sky.
Its stony Buddha face,
worn away by time
and the boots of astronauts.

Two
in the style of Lorca

Like a child
who has been playing
all day long in the forest,
then appears at your door
asking for her supper:
the moon.

Three

After the rain,
that renewed devotion
to unrequited love:
the eaves for the swallow,
the cat for her own reflection,
the gleaming scythe
for the pale new moon.

Euripides
after Seferis

He grew old
between the theatre and the tavern.
He tried to bamboozle the Gods
with that old sleight–of–hand magic,
he failed.
He was a sour man at heart
with very few friends.
When his time came,
he was torn to pieces
by wild dogs.

Morning
after Pasternak

At first light
tumbrel after tumbrel
rumbles across the cobblestones.
The day gets out of bed,
dresses as an executioner
and hurries to the guillotine.