Summermoon, I can hear you breathing
Summermoon,
I can hear you breathing
with my inner ear,
your chest rising & falling
with mine (as it always does),
her name on your tongue,
Everblooming Rose.
Your warm light
is a sweet torment:
I need you to drop the topic,
but I could never
bring myself to
ask that of you.
And so I relegate myself
to basking in
distant remembered rays of
those lilac-woven evenings,
that momentary secret island,
the glance of her eyes
from under the brim
of her hat.
Summermoon,
Just when I’m too far gone,
you beat your wings
and your light recedes,
leaving me to tend to
these monuments in the dark.