aubade

under a great tablecloth checked
black-and-white: sky, star, sky

the sad face of the plain pocked moon
reflects blue-black scales on the
skin of the water:

we clap and clap for the marraige
of star and sky.

one forgets how warm and wonderful it is,
the papery softness of flesh on clean flesh

until once again hands meet in the liquid blackness,
watching the wicks of the stars float by.

ceremony of empty spaces:
fingers jolt palms, hands in hands

each star white and virginal, sewn like a button
into the worn black wool of the sky.