Distant and Distant
For Fiona, Kimberly and Ivan
One night when Perseus had put to bed
His wingèd horse and kissed his forelock, twice,
(While no one else was watching), too much red
Wine passed Perseus’s lips since at dice
He lost a pile of coins. The next morning
As he was starting on the steep ascent
To wakefulness, he was sent a warning
(Or so it felt), a dream that he thought meant
Disaster in the future. On a long
Flat sandbar strip tiny men were building
Criss-crossed towers–white as Pegasus and strong
As him. He rode, heroic flame gilding
His tail and bearing white men in the noon,
In arc-like triumph to the goddess moon.