Sunday, July 15, 2012

For the One with the Moon in his Name

The beginning of my womb misses you
an ache pressing down to meet with your river essence
My fingers trace the night, circling stars and the night above my face
as my lips open to taste your fruit and read the moon of your name
The arch of my back, the cleft of my knee, the bridges of my body
all wait
I see you in rooms, in the contours of the walls
Last night your eyes were covered with leaves, not believing your way home
the trees were calling you, did you not hear them?

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