The moon casts an amusing tree-shadow
over the end of your left breast, and writes
for me in Japanese:
plum.

And because I read
moon-writing so well,
I have no problem at all deciphering
the glowing words,

written in his dazed script
for me,
above your left breast,

that the moon transcribes so slowly and laboriously
just for me,
in moon-writing, from up
to down, at the end of your left breast,
a black

point
that the moon places
with a hand bound
by light,
at the end of
one curved

nipple,
at the end of the breast-mountain,

which means
One
thing
in Japanese:

plum.