SOON’S A MOON
Soon’s a moon I bay at
for a time when all is in time
for the white candle
that lights you flame
with desire for the one
who isn’t even sure
if he knows one, two or three
the writing’s on the wall
and you are no fool, you
know it for the right
reasons, too.
It is not the wildest dreaming
that makes me want to shy away
but the right of all to be here
when you ask me for a call
of wildest lust and sombre
student-like timing for
the weirding is the worst
when I ask for it to
be certain that bit is cool
to want you before they
come down to eat me.
I will ask you to make believe
that you are wanted here, now
and then
but it is not the white-soaked yonder
that makes me want to share with
you, your right-sense of belonging to me.
It is the wry flavour of the work
to be done to set you out
as the wildest flamer of all,
to be here when I ask for it,
to be rendered unto the mouth of my
tummy and stall.
