Pansies (Lawrence)/Moon Memory

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MOON MEMORY
When the moon falls on a man's bloodwhite and slippery, as on the black water in a portshaking asunder, and flicking at his ribs—
then the noisy, dirty day-worldexists no more, nor ever truly existed;but insteadthis wet white gleamtwitches, and ebbs hitting, washing inwardly, silverily against his ribson his soul that is dark ocean within him.
And under the flicking of the white whip-lash of the moon ​sea-beasts immersed lean sideways and flash brightin pure brilliance of anger, sea-immersed angerat the trashy, motor-driven transit of dirty daythat has left scum on the sea, even in the night.

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