Is that the moon
At the window so big and red?
No one in the room,
No one near the bed----?
Listen, her shoon
Palpitating down the stair?
--Or a beat of wings at the window there?
A moment ago
She kissed me warm on the mouth,
The very moon in the south
Is warm with a bloody glow,
The moon from far abysses
Signalling those two kisses.
And now the moon
Goes slowly out of the west,
And slowly back in my breast
My kisses are sinking, soon
To leave me at rest.