Moon Month

 

This month my body is tuned to the moon -

The tide of blood flowing hot and heavy

On the fullest night of the lunar cycle.

Under the brimming moon my loins grip,

Throwing out rich red tissue,

Sour membrane dark and odiferous.

The relief of the blood flush!

The tension in my womb!

Like an orgasm in limbo -

Never waxing - never waning.

 

Every love act that was good

Is in the memory of my body.

Those who really knew me there

Are with me there.

I cannot for my pleasure evoke these memories

To stroke and gloat over.

My womb hoards its greatest moments.

 

Tonight, under the ripe moon, it writhes

In the poignancy of its own life.

Tonight my body remembers -

And searches.

It yearns to span the death leap.

It renders my wretched rationale

Circumscribed

And melancholic.

 

Cynthia Buell Thomas