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.