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Charlie Verge: Music

Dances The Moon

(Charlie Verge)
Dances The Moon
Charlie Verge

Dances the Moon
He does…
After all his voices
Are put to sleep
Under his resting blankets
and
Their melody is distant
That’s the time before
He watches over
His own rest
and

Dances the Moon
He does…

Playing his music
Like the spider who plucks at her gossamer strings
In the high meadow
Or the beaver who watches for and listens to
The soundless wake of his fretted tail
and

Dances the Moon
He does…

It’s sort of a slow dance
but
Fast on his feet
His toes teach the rhythm
To his fingers
and
So it’s remembered that way
On the breath of his heart
Like the lingering voice
Of a lonely girl

Songs are wound around
The phalanges of his hands
Escaping
In glitter
Like stars shining

The brilliance
Of knowing his own time
is
The big band
Of his own dance

The Moon
Knows it
Too
And presses herself
On the night’s darkness
With the softness of unkissed lips
Sweetening his hours
With glazes of light

Why?
Because that’s the time
The crouching child
Was scooped into the caress
Of
Her
Song

That’s the time when
He could lay his head
Upon the breasts of her dreams
And be rocked

Dainty feet
Tapped beneath the spreading chenille
On the pedals of the old piano

Black keys
Serve the white
Their grace
Like nights between days
and
Together
They made echoes everywhere

The Moon saw and heard
and
In one moment
At the very top
The three met forever

One world emptied into another
Until they were all
Full

Dances the Moon He does…