The Divide
by Michael R. Burch

The sea was not salt the first tide ...
was man born to sorrow that first day,
the moon a pale beacon across the Divide,
the brighter for longing, an object denied,
the tug at his heart's pink, bourgeoning clay?

The sea was not salt the first tide ...
but grew bitter, bitter ... man's torrents supplied.
The bride of their longing forever astray,
her shield a cold beacon across the Divide,
flashing pale signals: "Decide. Decide.
Choose me, or His Brightness, I will not stay."

The sea was not salt the first tide ...
imploring her, ebbing: "Abide, abide."

The silver fish flash there, the manatees gray.

The moon, a pale beacon across the Divide,
has taught us to seek Love's concealed side:
the dark face of longing, the poets say.

The sea was not salt the first tide ...
the moon a pale beacon across the Divide.

NOTE: "The Divide" is essentially a villanelle despite the non-formal line breaks.

Published by Neovictorian/Cochlea, The Eclectic Muse, Freshet, Better Than Starbucks, Sonnetto Poesia, The New Formalist and Pennsylvania Review

Keywords/Tags: Villanelle, sea, salt, first, tide, moon, pale, beacon, Divide, love, concealed side, dark side of the moon, longing, passion, desire, lust