Eclipse

June 15, Belgrade


We held our breaths, trying to spot it
Between the jagged urban shapes
Until someone breathed out, "It's there!"
And there it stood, tipped on a dome:
A low, inflated, eclipsing moon.

We climbed the hill for a better view,
And, aligned directly with the sphere
On the wane, for a second became
The twilight ligaments between
The sky, the river, and the world.

The city below smelled like summer,
(Like dust in the rain, and fruits in the street),
Neighbours gathered for a smoke and a chat,
TV blues began to flicker,
Dogs curled up in their place for the night.

Far upstream the bridges glittered,
Reflecting in silence the lights from the shore.
The outer edges curved in the sky
And buckled all up, dead and alive,
Into a bundle of expiring souls.

Standing between above and below,
We saw it all: the eclipsing moon,
And the exhaling world. Then,
The first moon-slice emerged, and the world inhaled,
Both ready to be recycled, and replayed.