when stars come up
diluted; glaze the lake
from underneath, glinting
A sultry moon
humpbacked and sour,
fills the horizon with pale light,
a wall of vapours.
I used to be wary of
approaching a scene like this, though
not anymore. I welcome anything
that reminds me of you, the broken pieces
of moon and stars walking in the dark lake;
unstable lights quavering in diverse directions like
your tongue in my mouth, that intricate melody;
even the lucid water with its
silver scales, sliding
through my fingers
much too quickly.
From The Invisible Moon (1988) by Carle Hartsfield.