You are the eye
Under whose lids
I bask without
having to ask
“Why should I die?”

And your thighs, ah!
When my eyes
Conjure up your thighs
I become certain
Of one thing:
That the dead will rise again.
LazharBouazzi, May 13, 2018

Late
Woke up the moon
Tonight.

Swollen her face -
Like a replica
Of Africa.

LazharBouazzi

The years add up
But you never truly forget  
Just cover it up
with leaves, some brush
an old sheet or blanket
A drive
a new route around
Sometimes an old box in a closet
or under a bed work fine
to hide the time

until the winds of seasons change
bare it all again

..and there's never any tissues around

The moon says the final word tonight -
Casual-recherché and light.

She, in the absence of the sun,
Leafs through the pages of the night

And shoots a side-look at the pond,
As her desire stretches far
Beyond his specular contour.

(c) LazharBouazzi