The Super Moon

The Super Moon

Insomnia tormented me last night.
The super moon was calling out to me.
Her distance from the earth, its shortening
was like a magnet to my lonely heart.

The words she spoke, into my spirit pierced:

“Why do you lie in bed there wide awake?
What time you waste to spend your waking there?
Come dance beneath my shining rays so bright.
Beneath the light that I reflect at night.

“At first wear clothes that warm against the chill.
You know your body warms with dancing act.
The warming of your body, temp’rature.
Must shed your clothes, dance naked ‘neath my face.”

Instead engaged in this alternative,
alone in bed amidst electric night:
I thought of you whom I have not possessed.
I thought of you, that other cure I sought.
The cure I visit by my fantasy.
That other cure for night-time wakefulness.
I thought of you, specific memory.
I thought of you, of you, I thought, of you.