A summer night, the sky a river
deep with silence
the hours slowing, flowing to larger rhythms.
I stand by a window and moon gaze
the mournful O of it I imagine
glazing a distant window that shadows you.
I see a sliver of moon
light cutting through glass
to pencil your body
a thin luminous curve
over thighs and crumpled sheets,
damp with the sweet odors of sweat and you.
Insomniacs of desire
our feverish tongue-tied pauses
long for the Braille of body-talk
fingers that taste hidden places
bodies slow dancing
to the music of a creaking bed.
About Janet Butler
Janet Butler relocated to the Bay Area in 2005 after many years in central Italy. She teaches ESL in San Francisco and lives in Alameda with Fulmi, a lovely Spaniel mix she rescued in Italy and brought back with her. Some current or forthcoming publications are The Blue Bear Review, The Chaffey Review, Miller's Pond, Town Creek Poetry, and Red Ochre Lit. Her most recent chapbook is "Searching for Eden" from Finishing Line Press.