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The moon is a hard white rock
These many months my
lover has withdrawn her
fingers rippling through my skin
like dreams her tongue like velvet
walking I am
not to take this personally I
lay next to her and
swallow the moon analytically as
she sleeps I
move next to her and am
reasonable as the stars in the sky as
she sleeps I
sink like a sunset into the horizon I
am without her loving groundless
hollow as the clouds I
fold myself into an Origami swan
floating on some other lake entirely I
will be as graceful
about this as I
can be

from Charting New Waters (eggplant press, 1980)