Moon Sugar — Frederick Livingston

Sudden and thunderous here, darkness falls

/ down a flight of stairs, spilling invisibility,

reminding us how slowly light is coming. Too long ago

/ tar-filthy entrepreneur and his tar-filthy apprentice

planted a water wheel in the river, were seen

/ dragging wires through the village like endless tails.

Postholes were dug like prayers, fulfilled

/ by unwary ankles and mosquito brood.

Now moon has found her first competitor

/ glowing at the end of a eucalyptus pole

dim as rumors of phones we will charge,

/ light termites will mistake for moons

as we slap them into bowls to fry

/ when air is electric with rain-smell and wings,

or a TV, if we dare to dream. Rain is heard

/ before it is seen. Thirsty earth applause

roars loud as pop music from dry-season weddings.

/ Before these flatulent subwoofers echoed

over hills, some remember radios. My neighbor remembers

/ pounding feet and goat-skin drums.