New Moon Newton

            ^{God is Change,
            And in the end,
            God prevails.
            But meanwhile . . .
            Kindness eases Change.
            Love quiets fear.
                        —Octavia E. Butler, “Parable of the Talents”}

stars 
whole patterns of them 
rocking around in the radiant arena 
above and around our heads 
on a night when the wind 
sang like a scream 
and the deer stood frozen 
as a statue of itself 
the sky was dark because 
la luna had finished revealing themself 
and was not yet ready to  
begin again

and I get it now: 
a stanza is like a little frame

and the frame is a little crooked 

jenny 
calls from the road and we talk 
I walk  
so briefly we together 
move from our faraway states 
synced perhaps by the clap 
of hooves and burning oil 
and the telephone can be a line 
like any other wire

so can I say it: 
love frightens me 
the matter it contains 
the speed the direction 
even words of thanks 
at the reference desk 
from a patron 
gracias, amor 
haunt me in the quiet places . . .

but if “god is change”  
then is it god who sent my matter 
hurtling back into the open open

can anybody tell me how to contain it

clockwork 
even the moon 
on a calendar stacked 
fluxes away and comes back

striking disclosure 
arrives in flashes