« back | next »

Mistress Moon

There's that old inconstant moon,
mistress of tides, and change, and flux.
Who cares for her now?

Hers is the suicides slot
when it seems everything's fled
from the world, then
the stealer of loves throws her monochrome
silence across the land.

Sure she's always playing that tart's game
of wax and wane;
to and fro with the tidal rip
Holding the wide sea's reins in her hands.



related pieces: