Poetry

Lunar Circles in the Night

The lemon-wedged moon

rims the sky like a garnish

over the magic city’s skyline.

Under her cold, dark

hallucinogenic trail of light,

long as the neck of a beer bottle,

she chases us down the boardwalk

like salt and lime

after a shot of tequila.

We dance in circles as

her beams swerve towards us

like a fat, worm

sucking on our youthful nectar.

When she’s full, a pulsating

white goddess,

I bleed from the vessel

that was fruitful

in her obscurity.

As the bright, planetary orb

shines down on me,

an all-seeing eye,

I mourn the life

that wasn’t born.

But, I am not afraid.

I was born for this darkness.

I remember my

connection to

this globe of life

every night, in circles

dark to light.

© 2014 Monica Torres

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