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Of Which Moon Sings The Sun To Sleep
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Poetry Of which moon makes men mad
Your shadows?
Through the gardens that whisper
Soft songs long dead,
With the snakes and buried hearts
Of simple love, with grey hair and eyes that are only windows
That watch
Your pale skin?
That waited a lifetime to touch,
And many more to be touched
Is it your children
That wake you now,
In this darkest hour
But to reach out and hold them
You find only winter
And the cold air it has left
Of which sun melts away the mind
And sets down
To sleep
In our dreams
Your fleeing fear?
That took you anywhere but back
Left you naked in despair,
Shivering through the rain
Your darts and maps?
Your desire to fuck or fight
Dance or drink
Love or laugh
Your desire to taste gold
Forgotten in morning's first breath
And in the moonlight, some nights
You remember her love
Your young buried in her song
Finding yourself further away
Than before
