What we'll tell the moon

the moon rises from the waters-
   full-shaped, dark lilac scented-
   perfect chalice on our lips

the moon lies perfectly still
   tightly curled as spring buds -
   our fingertips taste the dew like bees-      

the moon peals away the pretense
    & careful neat choices- we lean in
    as mirrors do:   
    cheek to cheek, hip to hip arching-

the moon cleaves this night to two -
   one to savor as delicate wine-
   then to rage like storm split sky

the moon bears the sum of us-
    crest & fall of tide, swallowing each season
    like oysters-   
    so why do we keep slipping through the slits-

the moon leaps between us
   fickle yellow as cut summer blooms,
   wilting in the climbing celsuis –

the moon rains our faces-
    steady as a birthing star-
    until we tilt, parallel axis, towards the morning-


Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Anaphora poems -Thanks for the visit ~