In The Lake of the Moon

Salvatore Amico M. Buttaci

from a porcelain face ripples a mouth
laden with secrets but nothing is told
in the lake of the moon

lunar eyes wet, murky, watch treetops
poke bottoms of dream-sodden skies
from which birds fly away

this mover of tides, this body of craters,
rests its reflection on waterbed evenings
in the lake of the moon


The 2River View, 2_4 (Summer 1998)