She rests in my arms
like a desert flower
waiting for the rain.
I say I have forgotten how to love.
She says it is because she has never let me love her.
I ask what is the fragrance of the moon,
And she touches my lips with her breasts.
I say, look how we have destroyed ourselves.
She says, but we are still lovers,
and nothing else matters
as long as the night is redolent of the moon.