Indian's shot down the stars under which the eunuchs used to dance. Silver moon over dark water, reminds me of nights spent with you in empty asylums, waiting for ghosts of you attic children to appear.
In my mind , fingers tracing, cheek , jaw line,lips, throat.
Feel the rising thump of your heart as the French girl with full moon eyes, holds your attention, bringing peace to your live-wired mind.
Conjuring ghosts with dust for mouths, feeding their lips wine. Waiting for the sun to set in our hands. Waiting to come down.
(published in 2006 in Poet's Art)
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