Moonsomething
by Ronnie
Clay jars, empty, crumbling,
made of dust, unadorned,
cobwebs catching the light
of the moon, the jars
squatting on the
windowsill.
She only comes
when the moon, pale and naked,
looks like horns,
she comes wearing white
and her mouth is red
and the world burns in her eyes.
The floorboards creak
I hardly notice,
I do not blink, she will be gone,
she makes me shiver under my skin
inside where my heart hides
blazing like an aztec sun.
I stand in the moonlight,
rooted to my shadow, still,
wondering what she will ask
if she will speak
if I will be able to answer
and be heard.
And the wind through the window
sounds like violins
as it passes through the cobwebs
and I'm unsure if
I've ever prayed for
a night to last forever
as much as tonight.
For Random with much love and adoration...
Ronnie