Love Song to a Moon

Tonight, you are a white tunnel inhaling my thoughts

object of desire, suspended

My words spilled out before your wet corridor of light

glistening there in a frozen fire

You burn me with a white agony

my eyes cannot resist tracing your borders

Cool globe of desire, strophic as a ballad

you perturb me, hanging there

I wish I could turn away from your throbbing diameter

you must be adored at a distance

Never

is when I will caress your cold valleys

Fondle your stark borders

lick your crescent clean

You will still be suspended there

a clock’s tongue locked in pendulum

Even when my relentless tantrum of love

is swallowed back into loam

Even when it seeps down to merge with underground rivers

to drip from the salivating mouths of caves

You will still dangle, indifferent

tonight a porcelain orb, tomorrow a sliver of ice

Here I yearn below, begging your blankness

ravenous with love

And you float, ashen and aloof

some almost-lover

Your chilled scythe ravishing the black, starry canvas

the murky, blurred soup of night

Where I had buried myself in obscurity

evading the sharpness of your fluorescent spotlight

You, oblivious as glass

a self-satisfied circle

You pierce me with cream, taunt me with a callous

alabaster sleekness

Tonight, you are a fragment of a lily, its pungent and velvet petal

my tongue wonders: do you taste bland as a communion wafer, or salty as a stone?

You would think with all my panting and heaving

straining, twisting of muscles, my raw coveting

You would swoop down to lay yourself in my palm

take your repose between my legs

Wrap yourself in my thirsty sheets

give in to my longing

If you approach a little closer, I might seduce you

blur your chalky borders

Make you shiver, ripple

like your reflection on the lake’s ink

But you keep a wise distance, hovering there in your round obstinacy

I am scalded by your purity

Voiceless, flavorless, just a magnet to the eye

stoic in your leaden sky, impenetrable in ivory armor

Won’t you let yourself be worshipped?

do you mock all this fruitless pining?

I fall asleep with your searing pearl in my mind

your silver haunts the gauze of my dreams

Don’t you discern my lust in your marbled beams

strewn before you in pieces?

You are a familiar stranger

I cannot claim to know your pale body

This is what will happen— little by little, I will decay

and you will remain there, eternal, an unclosed eyelid

Watching my slow decrepitude, observing my arc of passion

wane with the passing of years

Which to you are like momentary breaths

condensed in a winter’s night

And like you have done with all the others

you will draw no conclusions, confess no hidden fervor

only peer at me with your electric gaze

from your infinite, solitary perch