Spring. Full Moon.
on the cusp of sleep you appear
where you should be
I acquiesce to your presence
I am e.e. cummings’ Y(e)sssssS
yin swooning receptivity
this pond this lake this ocean
blissfully catching your rainfall
placidly gentle motion
open-mouth me spoken
collect me pieces
mosaic me wholly yours
the dish sings harmony with the spoon
I am your moon
rise shine nighttime
blue-black mystery
fold me into your blanket there
there ye
essssss
there
ii
today the clouds were earthquakes
shifting plates
clouds are what celestial women recipe
from water, dust, and cosmic gasses
sky is unconcerned expansive
but if it makes her happy
then she should create this
beauty this pre-Raphaelite
tuft of heaven
he knows the night sky
is when
then
she ceases her restlessness
coils springs round
shows herself
divine feminine
he attends
iii
she is forever learning to wait
crafting patience
from moonbeams and stardust
she has swept up
he laughs at her
she knows
she can’t stop herself
tonight will be different
he will see
she will shine tides into being
wrap herself around his shadows
til he sees himself reflected
in her aurora
she cannot eclipse him
he is all
sometimes he forgets this
tonight
he will remember
tonight
she will tell him
she will tell him
with
shine.
c. e. amato
4.11
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