From my pillow I see
a slice of lemon
slip between clouds,
a harbinger of showers
and then the full moon
exposes herself
complete in her roundedness
to my eyes, alone.
She winks, she teases,
she tosses me
beneath her wry eye
from warmth of my bed
and I stumble to the ensuite,
see little moon bulbs
dance in the pedestal, unblinking,
till they fragment in splashes.
I stagger back through
shadows and shoes;
find the moon's misty face
fawn with expectation
of uncertain devotion and
she dims, eyelashes wet,
fixed frown, half-concealed,
yet she winks once more before
scurrying to the skirt of my curtain.
My eyes close on clouds clearing
upon the window of night
and, with unseeing quick eyes,
dream Olympian figures wink
down at me, laugh as they hurl
golden lemons into that unblinking
great pedestal,
the sky.

show me please. 












23 old applause
