You bring out the moon maiden in me
the swirling diaphanous ice-glittering gauziness in me,
the vapor locked vacuity,
the astronaut's air-gauge reading zero in me
the ethereality, purity, a synchronous inconstancy in me
the shining sphere of healing quartz, fortune-teller's globe of glass,
gibbous green-cheese Gibson girl in me.
Meet me at the dew point and I'll jump
into your gravitational well like Ophelia in the river, I'll shine
with reflected light and a suicide's glamor. Captive satellite,
willing slave in Newton's chains, I won't
even wobble you on your axis. I'll wane uncomplaining
and wax asymptotic. If any stars or starlets should dare
to look on you, I'll stand in front of them--
that's called occultation. I'll be a cult of one.
You bring out the silver-sickle cat's-claw midnight magic in me
the star-sequined indigo-rayon high priestess robe in me
the rhinestone-tiara champagne-blonde pageant princess in me
the true-blue spoon-June New-Age new-moon moon maiden in me.
Be my strong-armed Apollo, my hot-rocket Armstrong,
walk all over me.
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