I declare myself your mystery
seek in me
that which you long for
and I will lift you above lust
to where the moon sleeps
and last breaths on linens
are secretly packed away
between the solstice and equinox
await this blaze
ignited by flesh and bones
there, as in heaven,
you can attempt to forget
the midnight memories of me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wonderful irony in the last two lines. So much to remember about the encounter you describe an ye you perform a poetic cuttee, willing your lover's annihilation of his memory of you. Charming! Ten, for sure. Gershon