moon

full moon, again tonight you wear your
wonderous mask of sensous desire - sunk
pale, in feathery cloud...
oh, sweet promises of the heart, don't dare
touch me, for sometimes moon you are made
of paper, - an ornament of the pantomime,
sometimes you're a double-edged knife that's
sharpened on both sides
yet as long as morning wakes me, with its
sounds of bird's delight, i shall not miss a
day of our shared decline





Nomi Ben-David.