I have one good memory—a total
Eclipse of the sun—when out of brilliance
Dusk came swiftly and on the whole
At seven years it felt good on a summer afternoon
To be outrun by a horse from another century—
The next morning I washed up
On land like a pod of seals
Struck with a longing for dark at noon—
If the cessation of feeling is temporary
It resembles sleep—if permanent, it resembles
A little ice age—and the end of some
Crewelwork by a mother who put honey
Into my hands so the bees would love me.
Source: Poetry (April 2012).