The Poetry of
Jack Scott

Moonlit Astrology

If marriages are made in heaven
where can couples go from there?

Learn a lesson from the Moon,
nearest of the far,
familiar surrogate of star
which, in your nostalgia for the never was,
you fancy proxy for your distant Eden.
She is the queen of tides, all tides,
beyond ocean, sea and pond,
puppeteer of liquids
and what lies within them.
She’ll attend your wedding
as she was present at proposal,
seconding acceptance at the start.

Medicine works hard,
though pedantically.
Should it ever focus
on marriage as disease
it might find that, for instance,
hormones are subject to something like
moonlit astrology,
a virgin field of punctuation
containing more than periods,
that lie within all feelings
and beneath each thought,
consistant with the truth
that pauses weigh as much as words.

Wedding does not weld you to each other
as forever as imagined.
Soldering’s more like it,
for, whether joined by gold or silver rings,
with too much heat it melts
like lead of toy soldiers
and what it binds will come asunder
in molten spurts and spatters
which hurt a lot, are very messy,
and usually cause lasting scars.


722, L59 ®Copyright 1974 Jack Scott. All rights reserved.