4th Sonnet To Christina Poem by James Mullaney

The moon alone requited me tonight,
lit in a lissome apricot sarong
on the fenestella, waxed carmelite,
and wrapped her thighs around my evensong.
Prayer became improbable. Facing up
to my craterlike desires, I felt small
wonder time's antecessors, lacing up
the sky's chaste eye, cast hymeneal
Banns to youth: Artemis and Athena
lashed the duffers arched to those immortals.
As they did do you to me, Christina,
steeling our astrological quartiles.
And so I share my bedroom with the moon-
grave virgins in the wake of youth's typhoon.