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■ Pașadine în vers alb (73)
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2011-07-25 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
The moon wakes me, moonily kissing my eyes...
(a pewter voyeur, her gaze doesn't waver when I catch her watching me in my sleep). Her steady eye caresses my violet temple and my cheek. I bare my breast to the moon- I flaunt its drooping pallor- and the moon spills milk on my white breast. Her pure, soft silence answers my tight throat-longing. I hold my hand up to her rent peephole. She spills her milk into my hand, wetting my fingers with her whey. I brush my lips with fingertips fragrant with the moon's flat sweetness, my kiss held fast by her nameless musk. Oh, lovely, bloodless moon! See how I offer you my breast, weighed in the cup of my wetted hand? See how I expose my pulsing throat to your cool and ruthless glide? I wish you could love me all over, moon... all through and through; not just touch my eye, spill milk in my hand. I wish you could fill me up with your viscous light. I would let you have me, moon; I would let you halve me like a sugared apricot; split open my arsenic kernel. Oh, moon, I would beg you to fill me up with your overflowing white; slow me down with your dense and arrowroot, your cool and chaste glue.
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