Polygamous Moon
A polygamous moon cannot manage
Her plague of husbands
Nodding claims stand stiff
In lunar closets, or hang limp
On the tree of a penitent wardrobe
Jealous rays unravel
The chastity of the night
Desire bathes her wrinkles
In the pitcher of a pagan milk
Night so dark, so hot
Even nouns forget their names
A retinue of adjectives plays
Clown in the courtyard of liquid shadows
Flowing back, fl owing forth
Like the robes of eating chiefs
The moon, polygamous still,
Her roster crowded with passionate longings
Her sweat scented with nameless things
Knowing not what to do with the night’s
Inky consort, and a bevy of stars
Winking coquettishly at her waiting stallions
Ode to the Sugar Cane