The Detached Voyeur

The Detached Voyeur

In the dark your face is lunar, whitened:
it is a deep lake that I probe with my eyes.
The moonlight steps across your cheeks
leaving cool footprints over your jaw, and peeks
into the gaps beneath your eyelashes to scrutinize

your skin, so paled by night, yet brightened.
Shadows conduct orgies below your eyebrows,
they cavort in the spaces behind your ears.
The moonlight seeks them out, and peers
at their little bodies as they swing hips, carouse,
and dance upon your collarbone (it is lightened

also by the moon’s steely stare). And my tongue
is the only remedy to this influx of white,
the stony pouring of lunar whispers into the night.
I run it over your body until the moon withdraws
                                                        in flight.

 

 

 

Suzannah Evans was born in 1989 and hails from London. Her poetry has previously been published in Ariadne’s ThreadDrey, Cultured VulturesRaum, and elsewhere; a translation from the German of Erich Kästner will be published in the forthcoming edition of Raum. She has lived in Germany and France, and is currently a postgraduate student at the University of York.

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