Monday, February 20, 2012

On the Wane


A crescent moon, I cradle your shadow-body:  
soft, dark, deep slumbering.
You were tiny once, and I eclipsed you
In a tentative smothering and little sleep.
This phase, also, will pass--
Hair commingled, our thoughts closer than ever
Chests swelling and deflating in a round.
You'll be too restless soon
for staring skyward and whispering

As we watch the moon
Glowing, swelling,
And new.

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