moonful

Moonful 

The moon a mouth
of light at the end

of a funnel.
I’m tilted, tipped

slowly into its white
furnace, sucked down

to a bull’s eye’s
boiled zero. A third eye

burns, buds in my forehead,
draws me, pours me :

the pitiless
epitome of openness,

this molten mirror melting my face.

From Learning to Row (1999)