8
inside my dancing head
the fires have gone out
without her hands to guide me
my feet have turned clumsy
scars layer my wrists and ankles
star crossed bindings
cutting against the grain
I gather a harvest of stars
she holds them in her eyes
her fingers are grasshoppers
making love in my hair
when she kisses my fingernails
one by one
we both know our bodies will never be the same
9
together we weave a slender cage
she cuts out my heart with her tongue
placing it on an altar inside the bars
she locks the tiny door
a silvery key wrought from moonstone
my fluttering heart grows miniature wings
next time the door is opened
my wings will fly me to her lips
my heart is a caged bird on a tiny perch
it chirrups a love song
its image in the mirror answers back
breathless it scrapes its wings on the moon
its body striving upwards to the stars
rogermoorepoet 
These are powerful pieces with such amazing imagery. So glad you posted them here!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Glad you like them, Meg. They are a sequence from the book Sun and Moon.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I figured that out! 😀
LikeLike
I love this more and more as you continue to post it! What a treat, Roger! Thanks for sharing this.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Tanya. It’s one of the love poems from Sun and Moon. I am so glad you like it. It’s one of my favorites.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I just ordered the book off Amazon. It will be my privilege to write a review for it, Roger.
LikeLiked by 1 person
WOW! Thank you so much … I do hope you enjoy reading it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I would give it a five star based on this poem alone, Roger. I just love this piece. It’s one that I will keep coming back to.
LikeLike
That’s very generous of you, Tanya. Thank you. There are some other fine poems in there and I do hope you like them.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Wow! “breathless it scrapes its wings on the moon….” Shivers down the spine time!
Beautiful, brutal, dark, addictive love.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Polly! Like following the Welsh rugby team when we don’t quite win anything: beautiful, brutal, dark, addictive love. There’s a little bit of Welsh n there, too.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, I know plenty of people feeling the same way after defeat at the hands of the Saes a couple of weekends ago! 😉
A little bit of Welsh as in the longing in the lines or in the sort Celtic mythical imagery?
LikeLiked by 1 person
It was a brutal game to lose. Should have kept Moriarty on. Switching half backs didn’t help either. As for the quote: the longing, I think, and the accumulation of emotion.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Love your descriptive lines! “together we weave a slender cage
she cuts out my heart with her tongue
placing it on an altar inside the bars”
Dwight
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Dwight. I can’t think where these images came from. Must have been the mescal. I too like them.
LikeLiked by 1 person
mescal…now there’s an inspirational tool I could take to! 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
It’s got to be the local home-brewed, mind. Sweet dreams and no hangover.
LikeLiked by 1 person
splendid!
LikeLike