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Midnight
Folder:
The Letters I remember many lovers who
sang sweetly into my fresh ears
I curled up in fetal like ecstasy with
words from women's pink lips escaping up through
the midnight air
Oh, midnight. I remember you best of all.
How you taught me your poetry, the sex of it
the cold hard truth
I would think, and wish you unmarried
I would wish you unattached
and I would wish you in my porous hands
but never for too long,
fearful that I might miss the mark of a creeping moment
which is all my life has amounted to
