Monday, October 31, 2011


I will meet you
she whispered
where the mad, mongrel moon
sways from course
and crests over the chimney tops,
leaving his shadow between our sheets.
Tis there
we will make him our ardent lover,
his junkaroo smile
brimming the cusp
of our hips like swans,
the bright wasp
of his longing gaze
trapping us
like a canopy of sighs
where the morning
cannot find us

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