We howl
beat our pots and pans
cry for mercy
from the pure weirdness
of that lopsided star

Oh and we send a note of despair
to our mothers
seek tears that cannot form
hollow the aching moon
poor waif that she is

And finally
turn the darkened cheek
to this insult from the stars

Moon
moon
stilling the moment

Once I wrote stirring verse to you
Now I stand stunned
speechless
as you steal the light
stuffing it
into the rude sack
of another day's fears

Sweet thieving lover in the night
swiftly bring back
heaven's delight.