Between Moons Where God Does Find Me

The sideways winds drill epithalamium moons around her sawdust ankles
Like stubborn bears and hostile wetsands of eleemosynary rites and posey tusks
I was once like you, a shy tenderfoot caught in the day’s distractions,
but now I have found the tenebrous wheat of penitentiary skies where no moon is lit
It looks a lot like you, this foggy shadow dipped in corridors of light
Where God’s good love and her name have found me, too disposed to write her thoughts
and too intrigued to let go of the sound of her voice, and mounting ankles of passion
Or is this Her sister, invading Her space – showing me one moon to spite the other