Moon Child

Shaking the fantasies off her hair, o’ beautiful child of darkness,

The night croons and moans to the rhythm of day’s divinity,

Naked children running like mad hyenas to their infancy

underneath their mother beside Aphrodite’s jeweled

silver orb that turns into a woman’s face. Her kiss

is a vampire beam, the moon shines a path down

to her blonde south while she howls to the little

imps with a saint’s fury in her eyes, dancing

in the dark; she bleeds rainbow syrup

from her bra, chewing dirty pearls,

drinking cheap wine in the forest

of leather. Flee from the vamp

while she’s killing the dance,

an ancient child of past

century, a tramp

of the moon.

- a.i.a.