Moonlight
I've seen rain-bitten trees in march,straddled, and made the moonlight there,
sending bodies dreaming out, unseen,
as something evil, or something fair.
Singing the sylvan gods to sleep,
she calls my name out to the night,
and laughs her limping ringlet down-
until the light seduces light.
And like a lover she will leave,
returning darkness, darker thrown,
to delegate the interstice-
her loving body to my own.
Poetry by kenneth wertz
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Written on 2007-03-03 at 16:43
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