Poezie

The Moon Wakes Me

2 min lectură·25 iulie 2011

Mediu

The moon wakes me, moonily kissing my eyes...

(a pewter voyeur, her gaze doesn\'t waver

when I catch her watching me in my sleep).

Her steady eye caresses my violet temple and my cheek.

I bare my breast to the moon- I flaunt its drooping pallor-

and the moon spills milk on my white breast.

Her pure, soft silence answers my tight throat-longing.

I hold my hand up to her rent peephole.

She spills her milk into my hand,

wetting my fingers with her whey.

I brush my lips with fingertips

fragrant with the moon\'s flat sweetness,

my kiss held fast by her nameless musk.

Oh, lovely, bloodless moon!

See how I offer you my breast, weighed in the cup of

my wetted hand?

See how I expose my pulsing throat

to your cool and ruthless glide?

I wish you could love me all over, moon...

all through and through;

not just touch my eye,

spill milk in my hand.

I wish you could fill me up with your viscous light.

I would let you have me, moon;

I would let you halve me like a sugared apricot;

split open my arsenic kernel.

Oh, moon, I would beg you to fill me up

with your overflowing white;

slow me down with your dense and arrowroot,

your cool and chaste glue.

003.390

Philomena van Rijswijk. “The Moon Wakes Me.” Atelier, Poezie.ro, https://poezie.ro/atelier/philomena-van-rijswijk/poezie/13985699/the-moon-wakes-me

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