The tail of the Scorpion
a light-static

 

over the road,
an old barn water-logged.

 

Then wind, northwest,
the clouds baled to the east,

 

and now the whole
covenant of stars:

 

the Dolphin’s jack;
the Dragon we traced at school;

 

the Lady in Chains,
who suffered, who was fair;

  

and stunned at last
the scythes of Herculean limbs.

  

And here the shut
petals of chaste houses,

  

the last fall of rain
left to the pines.

This article originally appeared in The New Criterion, Volume 15 Number 8, on page 37
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