Driving alone toward Zion National Park in southern Utah one night, the full moon appeared above the redrock cliffs, shining large and bright and white. I found myself suddenly flooded with tender emotions, wanting desperately to hold and be held. I wrote this poem to help me remember the image of the immaculate moon, and my emotions upon spying her. Please do me the honor of understanding that this is not a sex poem. Rather, this is a poem about the powerful and wonderful feelings that can accompany intimate romantic love, even across great geographic distance.
I want to make love to the moon.
I want to caress her creamy, naked curves.
I want to whisper grateful sobs for withholding nothing but judgment.
Would she deign, I would make gentle, generous love to the moon.