Is the moon dead
or is she alive
or is she, said moon, really a man
and does he have hands
and does she have teeth
and do they wonder
as they look down
what kind of star I am
if I am even a star at all
perhaps I am a meteoroid
I seem to be small enough
or perhaps I am a comet
pale, cold, and *****
constantly shying away from the sun
leftover from the beginning of time
~ ~ ~
Dear Cascabelera,
I am writing to you because
I've grown lazy in my heart
less patient in my mind
and my eyes, wide and salty as the sea,
foam with fear of depths

As you stand there, brilliant and luminous in all your ways
I lay here faithfully underneath you
as I have for the past twenty-one years
there is no greater devotion than ours, I know

Yet as I lay here, still,
underneath your gloaming
with nothing to feel
and no one to hold
but my sadness
I cannot help but wonder
are you dead
are you alive
are you here by choice
have you any tears to cry?

Cascabelera,
I want to embrace you sweetly in the early morning
lunita, lunera
I want you to lay with me in the dark