Monday, May 18, 2009

Der Mond Naturlich

And though your smile is hidden in a stare,
    cloistered near a chastised grin –
    seductive – knowing I will never win
your treasured hand from his inconstant care:
fleeing like a vulture whenever he is there –
    trapped inside my nourished sin,
    I pray you would with warmth begin
to steal my vagrant eyes; steal his devilish glare,
and escort me to some strange esoteric ride
    where women, bathed in sunlight’s close embrace
    wisp and moan each other’s withered face:
and I, with you – and you alone along my side
    will naught but smile at their unlucky plight –
    content to have you constant in my sight.

From 2001-ish.

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