Leslie Philibert Poems
The Night The Moon Got Stolen
In the night the moon got stolen
lunatics shook their fists at empty heavens,
cats stared at holes in the dark night
and seas turned into lakes, tides refused,
And songwriters hit the wrong keys
while lovers went home for an early night,
words were not whispered in ears nor
arms thrown across shoulders in first joy.
Have no fear for this lost face in the sky,
the lady that shimmers over standing water.
Aurora will bring the slow return of dawn,
Libertas will free this stolen moonlight.
Not About You
Not about the way
you spread your fingers across your mouth,
playing shocked, then laughing.
Not even about your hair, straw.gold,
that moves across your forehard,
a mantle for northern paleness.
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