Under the Moon I lay with you

Bleached bone disc
Of the moon sits
Still, frozen
In a frost sharp sky
High,
Aloof, distanced
Drawing down
My tides
To their destiny.

Through threadbare lace
Her light is a shroud
On all that has been
Done,
Not done
Never can be undone
Dead-set irrevocable
And…yet, also
A christening gown
Of antique hope
For our tomorrow’s
Birthing,
Blessing,
Wedding
Of our ways.

She pours a thin,
Thin stream of molten
Silv’ring,
Tracing
The bone sharp edge
In our bed
Of your upturned face.
My incredible shrinking man,
Growing bigger by the day
Immense,
Loving, longing,
Lashing my heart
To your mast
Head.

Like an arc
Of the serpent’s back
I flash back
To the past
When, on one night
- only one night –
Long ago
You lay– then too – in my bed
But propped above me
On your then strong arms
Your then wild full mane
Of Grecian hair
Spread
Like a raven canopy
Above my head
Beneath the shadowed canopy
- Indian-patterned - –
Above my bed.

Then too
A moon
- Maybe -
(I remember it that way)
Burning with this,
This
Unsuspecting destiny
Through a weather-worn window
Bare to a ruthless sky
Pouring relentless
Into a lonely garret,
Perched lonely
On a Darlinghurst hill.

I remember your even
Then thin nut-brown frame
Lithe like a guru
And your startling smell
- Smell of a man -
Strong, pungent, aromatic,
Greek.

Why did I not let you
Into me then?
Because you were you?
Or because I wasn’t me?
Or because I was?
A hollow man,
Crying out
To be hollowed out.
As unformed then
As my unformed vagina.

But now,
Now
In the proffered
Bowl of my being
I open my wound
Like a womb
To receive
- not so much rapturous
As reverential –
Your love,
Force,
Fading,
Blessing.
An ordained sacrament
Of tomorrow
Now,
Now,
Now and
Now;
Tonight
And every night
Entwined and
Intertwined
Around and beside
Close-woven warm
In this bed
And cold close
- forever –
In the next.