Moonghosts
An illusion
Of lunar luminescence:
this light is not her own,
but a diffusion –
her calming influence upon
the incandescence
of an unseen Sun.
It is only right
we meet in her midnight
moonlit moodlight:
blue translucence.
We, whose lives are already
half lies and full blood truths.
Here, our edges are less distinct,
our sense of touch is something
sinking deeper than the surface skin.
We are moonghosts.
Here is where we’d tear the lace and place
ourselves within the context of the dark,
where you kept your lust and your honesty apart,
where wolves danced in the woodlands
and the forests of your heart;
And afterwards, the wind would blow,
and the snow would sing songs of salvation:
each flake sang with a single, simple note, clear as a bell,
and the blizzard became a symphony,
and a revelation.
