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That Night Is Also Brilliant
by Daniel Gunter
Before my birth, our neighbors could not tell
That I was coming toward them to be born.
They did not mark my mother’s pregnant swell:
She wore the shapeless clothes she’d always worn
And worked the fields as she had always done—
Yet carried me, small alien in the corn.
At last I moved from darkness into sun:
Wednesday’s child, and therefore full of woe.
Despite that birth, I’ve never sought to shun
Such joy as I could find; have tried to show
That night is also brilliant with its stars.
But I remember best what I best know
As one who’s seen the baleful face of Mars:
It’s more than work-worn hands that bear pale scars.