If you were like her lips
the thought pressed against
skies that stayed all night
endured its sky
concentrating
hooked before mirrors and thought
then
we could meet half way in the median line
as good and evil look alike
I could see the mind tree mend make the moment
free of its cowardice my cowardice before men
and their way not
like the bodiced-moon
its stockings or like a lover does
long-legged to the moon
the unspoken word aired sounded
beneath the phrase of its catching what meets us
at the end of time
