Endymion, talking in his sleep again



I miss you in the moon’s light, whether she
is painted blue, white, or harvest orange.
It’s clear we’re both of us in thrall, under
lunar and each other’s push-pull power.

We worshipped her with guttural cries
never feeling sated even at the full.
When she was old, we fasted; but as
she waxed, those hunger pangs returned.

Our phases were that regular. Waning, I
would howl, feeling your absence keenly.
The crescent, a consolation. So too how she
endlessly undulates the sea’s highs and lows.

My back silvered by her unblinking eye, you
turned your inner one to mine once more
and between the faces of heaven-sent moons,
rendered me delirious, a celestial sleeper.

Lie again with me beneath her tranquil gaze.
In dreams, Selene, I plead it, woozily high –
and it’s enough, I see us, then hear you say:
‘there is not one, no, no, not one but you.’

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s