Under the Stars

First time, under the stars,

the same that grace this evening cloak

and witness paid

to an ancient shame.

Unholy well,

the pail draws blind

from a sump as grimpen

as the sea was black

on a moonless night

lain under the stars

limbs slacken and white

and cold as the hearth,

the ashes now worn;

guilt like a stranger

at the gate who knows

more than she lets on.

March 2015