This Moon

This Moon

scrapes the thawing earth,
gnaws on lurking snow.
Skin melts to skin as I draw you in.

How do we stumble
across what makes us alone
into this radiant knitting of bone?

Your heart drives my blood.
My arms swathe your moans,
breathe with your lungs.

Too many years without you,
frosted with pain for so long, gone
like moon shadow in a blaze of dawn.

Please visit www.mdfriedman.com to see more of M. D. Friedman’s work.