The moon is a hard white rock
disenchanting
These many months my
lover has withdrawn her
fingers rippling through my skin
like dreams her tongue like velvet
walking I am
not to take this personally I
lay next to her and
swallow the moon analytically as
she sleeps I
move next to her and am
reasonable as the stars in the sky as
she sleeps I
sink like a sunset into the horizon I
am without her loving groundless
hollow as the clouds I
fold myself into an Origami swan
floating on some other lake entirely I
will be as graceful
about this as I
can be
from Charting New Waters (eggplant press, 1980)
