"To put the Sun and the Moon in the same painting is a sign of psychosis in an active state."

- Danielle the neuropsychologist

My two breasts.
Our two mouths.
The modest twopiece
of our tender hips.

The shape of our two breaths
laughing in the morning. That tango
of your two fingers through the blue
of my hair. The twostep of sleep
out and into my fragile skin.

And, of course,
your two eyes
watching me.

You say you have watched
me sleep. I know you
have watched me taste you
in the base of my collar bone,
watched your words suck the lips
of my words, watched me watching
you, it's true. You have
my eyesight.

But we will not be
blind together.

Love. Right now,
one of us is the Sun
and one of us is the Moon.

So despite two million tossed words
and two solid scents there is no two
ways about it that we should not kiss
now. Any kiss
may leave our open mouths
too full to speak.

So I will watch you
across shoulders and shadows,
and you will watch me
over scribbles and through
the sound of shaking trees

and from time to time I will leave
my hand open on tabletops, and on
fountain floors, and in the air
in front of my speaking mouth.

Love, it is then that I'll be feeling
again that taste of our fingers
kissing. That is the time
when I will wonder
if your two eyes
are on me.

copyright © 2001, Lucy Anderton & the e-poets network
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