My name, Diane, declares

Moon Goddess, it too an oxymoron

as I control nothing,

not tides, or madness, not lovers,

or night blooming flowers. My name,

like so many names,

extravagantly, ironically, belies my organic or

celestial natures.

— from “Sea Thrift & Gorse”

April 1

found on our driveway

like a feather dropped

by a crow

8 of spades,

a playing

card/

we played Crazy Eights, slapping

cards or holding them

as if they were birds that might fly

out of our hands

decades ago, in our childhood

like the translucent, whirling,

image I imagine, prismatic and phosphorescent —

a murmuration of starlings swooping

and iridescent

But it dissolved onto a grey wall, undecorated

/ glimpses of us wearing our

velvet Sunday best dresses, yours

usually crimson, mine blue

— from “And Now She Has Disappeared in Water”