we sit in sacred moonlight, watching each
other without speaking. I honor your
aqua iris, wisping dark brow. I reach
for you, not with my hand, but brief contour
of my flexing mouth, longing to whisper
your name, yet surrendering to silence,
its power beyond reason. Moon’s luster
embraces your smiling face, radiance
shared with shadow. I recall Pyramus
and Thisbe, conversing by signs, glances,
forbidden to speak—mythic ghosts of us
in our mute realm. Above, bright moon dances
through columns of clouds, drawing us breath close.
You study my lips. I give you a rose.
Roger Armbrust
March 10,
2014
