Painting by Moonlight

Isn’t it amazing that lovers
have drunk moonlight forever
and yet the well keeps giving,
pouring pailfuls of light
through drawn curtains
on the unsuspecting,
painting chiaroscuros
on canvases of cotton and linen,
making marble models
of plebes. We have robbed
the gods; now we are Neptune,
commanding water,
and yet how different
the gifted zamzam
from the hands of Diana.

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