I am the passion you have forgotten in your long sleep

The white cat is curled up in the sky 

its cloudy tail drawn round its flanks. 

Waking, it struts over the roofs singing 

down chimneys, its claws clicking 

 

on the roof tiles that loosen and fall. 

Now it runs along the bare boughs of the oak. 

Now it leaps to the beech and sharpens 

its long yellow claws. Sparks fly out. 

 

The moon is hungry and calls to be fed, 

cries to come into the bedroom through 

the skylight and crawl under the covers, 

to curl up at your breast and purr. 

 

The moon caterwauls on the back fence 

saying I burn, I am hot as molten silver. 

I am the dancer on the roof who wakes you. 

Rise to me and I will melt you to silk dust. 

 

I am the passion you have forgotten 

in your long sleep, but now your bones glow 

through your flesh, your eyes see in the dark. 

On owl wings you will hunt through the night. 

 

[Marge Piercy {1936- } 'How the Full Moon Wakes You', from The Hunger Moon: New and Selected Poems 1980-2010]