The Moon
Call the police call the fire brigade the moon's on fire.
Like a lovers' pyre, like a burning lyre,
like an ancient reality-denier.
It sears the backs of our eyes with the unknown
and whispers using the words in the words.
We sit here in the light of the flames
reflecting in our eyes
and the way we look at each other.
There's a flicker in your eye, it may well be
the light from the lamp from the wishing tree.
Long did I wait for you, long did I build
your temples and castles and rivers and hills.
You have a world ready-made in me
waiting for you to give it life.
We're the people the telescopes look for
running away from the rest of the universe.
Running away into each other's eyes
but don't look now - the moon's on fire.
DH