Pink Moon, Light Moon
A rabbit gone confused in the middle
Of the road, whether it would dart past
Or leap back to where it came from:
A split second call of judgment, or face
The dark snatch of sacrifice.
Rattled by moon-toned lights of our truck,
The rabbit goes for the crossing and almost
Got struck: some working of fine mercy.
And black clouds are etched against the sky,
Made graspable by the wandering moon,
The road like sheer crack of violation
On the vast mound of Koh Kong forest.
My tipsiness from sheer beauty and beer
At a Sre Ambel restaurant searches for
A road trip music that I could not place
While standing at the open back of the truck.
But somewhere in the expanse of dark fields
And small lives of the Khmers now tucked
In quiet sleep, maybe it is Nick Drake’s
Pink moon trying to connect to this lightness.
23 September 2004
Koh Kong, Cambodia