The little movements of back and forth

The hand movements of crossing each other - taking

the whole chest in with the stroke

I was alive on this beach

Not in Seattle.

This place is raw, a little like Ireland

not manicured like a place for tourists

I can’t see the moon - though I feel her

fullness - watch her wash was my room with

white light all night

slept soundly under her pulsing gaze.

They say the moon was once much

closer

And much bigger - you could sail out

to a particular spot - hoist up a ladder

and touch her.

Even she let you climb her

Oh, it was a worlds colliding

leaving one globe for the pulsing white orb

one gravity field to be uplifed into

a far more mysterious one.

As if she wanted you on her body

wanted your hand and foot caress

wanted you to reach in between her scales

and pull moon milk from her flesh

Yes, this moon was here a long time ago

And don’t we feel her ache as

back when we were closer - kin

and had a hands on relationship

like the one I long for with you

Flung too far apart

in the dark so often about what

the other is feeling in the light

The seasons turn and we come closer

And yet the moon is far off and still beckons us

- what did she just say?