by Mary Alexandra Agner
Woman in the twilight, last sun
on the pali, brightness dwindling
in the mountains’ misty lei,
I have paddled island to island
for the awe in a storyteller’s voice.
Step down onto the birds’ wings
step down onto the night beach
and speak to me in the moonlight
he said, through the spume and salt.
So many years of apapane song,
i`iwi, `akepa, have taught me beauty
is fickle as wind and feather.
He will leave me; I have seen it.
Fickle myself, I spread my wings and love.
Mary Alexandra Agner writes of dead women, telescopes, and secrets. Her latest book of poetry is The Scientific Method (Parallel Press); her latest nonfiction is a travel guide to Titan. She makes her home halfway up Spring Hill; you can find her online at http://www.pantoum.org.
Hawaii Pacific Review 