The murk has turned the mist of hopes
Into this bitter carnal dust
And lowered the deceit of clothes
Down to the wrists drained of all lust.
In brazen night are barely seen
Cape Neck and Canyon Collarbone.
A hazy strand’s yielding that sheen,
Touched by the moonlight. We’re alone.
You’re sitting there, in rare tongue
Calling all stars to fix your girl,
Exhaling midnight from your lung
Into the room, curl after curl.
Your stars of copper will align
To throw their sparkling precious seine
Onto my naked back – a shrine
For the half-angel and half-man.
I guess I’ll let your moon rest deep
In gloomy lakes guarded by swans,
And you can let my brittle sleep
Reach stars of copper, stars of bronze,
Where freezing lovebirds cry for cure
For their depleted heavy wings,
While flying high and staying pure
En route to fairies and their kings.