Conjunction.
(Moon and Mars.)

Laughing, and spilling out of the loud pub;
The powerful moon pinned us
With its sepulchral, white-boned intensity.
Its single beam: mocked the headlights
Of cars: pressing up the Tonbridge road.
And a planet’s soft pinprick of light
Stepped up close at heel, as we walked on. 

Later, placing pigment on the palette;
Appraising the studies that space
The unsought sojourn: of separation
I ingest; like a gestating foetus: dreaming
Of the moon: fixed into mind.
Its primal circle, drawn upon primed canvas,
Where I spread the loaded brush, and push on 

Towards a gradually gradated brightness.
Friday night too fills with catcalls
And choruses. Old Beatle songs – sung fresh
From my room. As these fingertips pulse
At an astral face: grown opalescent
With long tresses. An odalisque, encompassed
To embody a newly assigned love.