The Red Moon

 The red moon makes me moan
 Groan like an ember
 Throw me a bone
 Shivering in the ashes
 Like a thousand lashes
 She is burning, turning
 Like a lust driven God

 Smoke gray moths, entranced
 Dance before her pictographic face
 Reflections in the smoking mirrors
 Leave behind no trace
 Lanterns swaying
 Flames waylaying
 Fantastic feathers waving, playing
 In the corners of my room
 Tonight I’m wearing sequined masks
 And, a dangerous perfume

This conflagration of a starless night
This moonlight bright
Makes me wonder
What are we doing?

Do you ask, on nights like this
The thoughts of the silent, scarlet moon?
Do you hear the voices of her soft, mother-purr
Her pale and polished, driftwood voices
Changing key as her phases change?
Do you hear her silken voices rage and range
With a luster made of ancient pearls
With the conch shell’s trumpet whirls
With songs of secret kisses
And, arias of hidden wishes?

Does she call your name?
Does she call your blood?
Does she ask you to recite your dreams?
Does she ask you what the music means?
Does she speak to you
Of visions
She has seen on the other side?
Does she take you for a midnight ride?
Does she watch you?
Does she catch you
The way that she catches
The wandering tide?

Does she weave her webs into your soul
And, give you new-dream, moonbeam seeds?
Does she smooth your restless thoughts
The way she soothe the restless weeds?

Does she calm your wildest fears?
Does she magnify your tears?

Did you not know, the moon stands apart
And, the moon has neither a voice nor a heart?
Did the red moon come to make you moan?
Did she come to throw you off your throne?
Shiver in the ash
Like an ember groan
Did you not know you are really all alone?
You are standing on your own

Valeria Castellanos – July 2015