THE
MOONLIGHT OR HER SKIN
'nunc tibi me
posito visam velamine narres,
sit poteris
narrare, licet!' nec plura minata
dat sparso
capiti vivacis cornua cervi,
dat spatium
collo summasque cacuminat aures
cum pedibusque
manus, cum longis bracchia mutat
cruribus et
velat maculoso vellere corpus
every night before that day,
for months, he had no sleep,
but his breath caught in his throat,
the baying of the night hounds
echoing in his ears, as he dreamt,
staggering through black woods,
the Huntress looking down
at him from the milky moon,
her blue eyes the clear pools
among the pine forests of his
sleepless dreaming—and after
those restless nights, when that
day finally came, his friends flushing
out hart and doe behind him,
with that dread pool ahead, water
gone still in the silence of his sight,
he knew he would never turn his gaze
away—
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