A poem by Madhuri
The moon read her poems aloud
To a beautiful woman in a bathtub.
That woman was sparkling clean
In water blue with bathstuff.
Steam lived like inching atoms
Amongst the four small walls.
The moon sat on a wooden toilet lid
Nearly round as her rear.
She read as she lived,
But more so.
She read her poems about the moon.
When five were sung she went upstairs
Feeling like densest chocolate
Truffles had just been eaten,
And more would be too many.
They echoed in her insides
The flavors of senseless passion
For having been alive.
The moon clutched her sheaf of papers
Dragged thousands of leagues
Over the sea
That moon-woman should want
Her mirror read aloud like tea-leaves,
As she steeped in her blue blue sea.
from More About the Moon
Illustration and Poem by Madhuri, Tuscany, April 2011