Tuesday, November 14, 2006

I first met the moon
In a cathedral ceiling-ed cedar swamp
Surprise made initial talk awkward

That time of night
I’d assumed the temple empty

“Does it smell like a library in here to you?”
I asked

And so
We soon
Were best of friends
And giggled like girls
In their prime-ist of years

We teased the old forest
Lecherous and vivid
By tossing our heads
And tried on eye shadows
In mirrored stream bends
We danced to the wolf howls, whip-poor-will’s
And owls
We drank Phlox nectar
In midnight gardens of hers
And Gossiped
Of wrens

Moon and I held hands to stroll
Or roll in inky sky
The stars mistake it Sapphic
But that
Only adds
To the secret friendship
I have made with the moon

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