Books by Diane Frank

While Listening to the Enigma Variations

The Sky away from Here

Somewhere, the moon turned copper. 
Druids circled Stonehenge in amber robes. 
My astronomy professor was on his balcony
with a telescope.
I was in San Francisco, under a thick cloud cover.

In the sky away from here,
shadows of buffalos ran across the moon
and coyotes howled their dirge to the dark night.

In London, a coven of moon-clad women
swept their homes, cooked moon soup,
chanted the old stories,
wore moonstones.

In the Zagros Mountains,
Sufis gathered in a stone circle,
read Rumi for an oracle,
became dervishes at midnight.

In Kyoto, a geisha in Pontocho
wore a kimono painted with a silk moon,
brushed her lover with a feather.

And in the Gatsby Land of the Long Island beaches,
two lovers bathed in a tide pool
using the dark of the moon
as a cover.

In San Francisco, I entered my dreams
as the rain pounded disappointment on my window,
but in the sky away from here,
luminous tattoos
danced across the sky
and shattered into new constellations –
the buffalo, the geisha,
the feather,
a tide pool of lovers
on the far side of the moon.

— Diane Frank