I remember the nights
we slept naked together
me, pressed against the roundness of your ass,
our bodies electric with warmth
and blanketed by our history.
The sheets were redolent
of the lust of pent up longing
in strange beds where
we whispered secrets to each other
in the mumble of dreams.
The night is a forest of sighs.
Between the trees, there are whispers of longing.
No one but the beautiful can understand what is being said.
There are these stars that come down to earth as women,
more lovely than the purest strand of pearls.
When they arrive, they take only the clouds full of moon for their clothes.
Only they can hear the deep, slumberous breath of the leaves
who dream about the night sky and the absence of certain stars.
Larry Oakner is the author of several books of poems, including SEX LOVE RELIGION (Blind Tattoo Press) along with the forthcoming chapbook, The Canticles of Private Lucius Swan, (Pen & Anvil Press) as well in Red Eft Review, WINK, The Oddville Press, and many others. Oakner lives in New York.