Dearest man-in-the-moon, <br />ever since our lunch of cheese <br />& moonjuice <br />on the far side of the sun, <br />I have walked the craters of New York, <br />a trail of slime <br />ribboning between my legs, <br />a phosphorescent banner <br />which is tied to you, <br />a beam of moonlight <br />focused on your navel, <br />a silver chain <br />from which my body dangles, <br />& my whole torso chiming <br />like sleigh bells in a Russian novel. <br /> <br />Dearest man-on-the-moon, <br />I used to fear moonlight <br />thinking her my mother. <br />I used to dread nights <br />when the moon was full. <br />I used to scream <br />'Pull down the shade!' <br />because the moonface leered at me, <br />because I felt her mocking, <br />because my fear lived in me <br />like rats in a wheel of cheese. <br /> <br />You have eaten out my fear. <br />You have licked <br />the creamy inside of the moon. <br />You have kissed <br />the final crescent of my heart <br />& made it full.<br /><br />Erica Jong<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dearest-man-in-the-moon/
