A bright copper coin in an indigo sky
The harvest moon reflects in my eyes.
In the cloudy mirror of me
I glimpse a shadow
Obliterated by the black face of night.
Ninety-six laws of confusion
Choke, blur, and blind transformation.
The muted moon is a beautiful woman, Astarte.
Her bare shoulders glimmer.
In the watery mirror of light
Her nipples pose erect
Under her bolero blouse.
She illuminates the garden within
Finds magic
In the soft swinging skirt of palm trees.
Lunar light turns, dims, eats organic life
Attracts the attention of the dark ones.
The water moon feeds on the lunatic fringe
So says the esoteric legend of the werewolf.