havdallah tonight at the albany bulb
was a contest of lights
to the west, as the sky sunk into its foggy orange sleep
the hills of marin were dancing
with salpeter siennas
and gunpowder greens
each fleeting burst of light
accompanied by a look-at-me cannon blast
before fading away
into falling ash
while to the east,
cresting over brambled sand dunes,
was a moon rise so full
it strained the seams of space
rising without fanfare
(at least that we could hear down below)
and quiet as she rose
three stars appeared
to add glitter to her cheekbones
and heft to her entourage
three stars shown
which meant
that against the sulfuric fire-clouds
one wick, and then another, caught flame
and against the silent canvas of the heavens
the falling swoons of nigunim
began to paint a prayer
so that in the contest of lights
a silent queen lit half the world in ivory glow
as tehillim wrapped her in robes of star-studded praise
while small pops gasped brightness
away like fish in the sun
leaving nothing but ash
- technicolor memories -
not much of a contest, after all
against a queen, and her steady, pearl reign