I see you now, full moon...peeking through scents
of honeysuckle. Deceiver! I know
how Men rip their breasts apart, show you hearts
of blood and love, in their amorous woe.

I sense you now, false moon, seeking with ray
of slivered moonshine to pierce my soul. But,
you cannot slay me, again. I will pay
not for love-torn mourning, the slash and cut,

the wounded cries of beseeching -- no more,
failed Moon. I shadow your smile without tears,
without fears of loss; darkness-tossed; no whore
could sink as low with faux, filigreed leers.

Release me now, Moon of my birth, your glow
means nothing to this one who stands below.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 6/2/04