The Cold Night

It is cold. The white moon
is up among her scattered stars⁠—
like the bare thighs of
the Police Sergeant’s wife⁠—among
her five children⁠ ⁠…
No answer. Pale shadows lie upon
the frosted grass. One answer:
It is midnight, it is still
and it is cold⁠ ⁠… !
White thighs of the sky! a
new answer out of the depths of
my male belly: In April⁠ ⁠…
In April I shall see again⁠—In April!
the round and perfect thighs
of the Police Sergeant’s wife
perfect still after many babies.
Oya!