Conversations With the Moon.
Sometimes I want to suckle at your white breast
And drink your milk of delicious tenderness
While lips to lips embraced we tremble in the wind
Desire is nothing to be lost, love is all to win.
Sometimes I want to put my head against the fold
Of your bosom and the blanket of your dress
Sheltering you from the rugged night's sultry cold
That stare at my flaccid hope of nakedness.
Sometimes when my soul ravaged by its memories
Fragrance of your body blows from afar
Through tender vines of tawny turbulent histories
You cannot know my pulsar and my star
While you wile and wander around the wanton earth
In frivolous mirth. I did not want the dry
Bed of oceans for ships of dreams to sail. A desert
Heart cries too without the rain. Hence the sigh
When I thought how mythical is all beauty, all truth,
The Castor and Pollux of ramantic vision!
For there was no other man on your breast, but refute
Came late, dear moon, after the Apollo mission.
Copyright © L'Nass Shango | Year Posted 2009
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