If I had fingers, the moon and could
your dress fixity of his eyes so that taste would contemplate
would, at this hour suspended
an embrace in the cold I do not fill satisfied.
back to you, faithful friend, also tonight
still be slaves of your motions
worn under your white light
our bodies, which
exhausted from the heat of endless hours of love
have halted but never subside
fall asleep, only waking up to a blinding sun
giungessimo to you, Moon, now. He never lowered
the tide from when I met
hit, crashed
with broken vertebrae
veins cut the skin flayed, burned, burned alive
I have not attempted escape.
I entrust my secret Luna
the rain will not stop wetting
and winter will find us again, like bare skin.
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