cursed with dark magic from taking the wrong path,
a girl made her way towards the masquerade ball.
many had told her not to take the shortcut,
but her shoes were blistering her heels and hurting her toes.

it was only a shortcut.

knocked out by a strong wind,
waking with no recollection of what happened,
she continued.

the ball was extravagant and many were there.
the crown prince was present
with his eye on the girl with the antelope mask.
how delicate it was made and how smooth the material was,
the beauty of her must be stunning from underneath.

they danced all night until the party began to die,
and it was then that the prince wanted to know the identity of his love.
but the mask was stuck tight to her face,
and embarrassed the girl.
she spoke about the shortcut,
and the prince knew.

his true love cried before him,
but his father would never let him marry a girl in a mask.
so she ran away with the treacherous thoughts in her mind,
with the crown prince shouting from behind.

she ran until her feet wouldn’t,
and found herself in the darkest parts of the forest.

kiss the angry rash at my throat
where the fires of melancholy
that burn inside me
have licked upward
like a witch burning
a witch
who burns herself
from the inside out

Have you seen the Goddess Moon tonight?
She rises flush, the color of ancient, bleached bone.
Magnified by her own regal-ness.
She hangs above the charcoal black tree tops.
Her reflective, pale light diminishing and
intensifying as her dress of wispy, threaded clouds
moves in front of her seraphic face.

Fae, built from shadows of canopy and the sound of twigs breaking, dance in the Moon's undulating radiance-- a reticent waltz.
Not far off-- from behind me, from in front of me,
I hear the fox cry and the coyote yip.
Then a call I can not identify, a rasping,
weighted down with mass and age.
A scraping made by heavy stones grinding together.
Perhaps it is the door of the Barrow opening.
Allowing one courtesan reveler to
come pay ancient homage to the Moon.  

A night-breeze blows out of the east
carrying the smell of Ipomoea and Almonds.
In her light the Oak and Maple leaves wave and shimmer.
The forest shakes its coat of green,
waking, after a long nap.
Enraptured, I stand, letting the poetry of the moment,
the master surrealist-- my own mind, paint
impossible murals of symbolic meaning
from what I observe.

Overhead her pale Majesty receeds up,
Her magnitude reducing as her distance increased.
I watch her go...
Have you seen the Goddess Moon tonight?

Thou are one witch I shall not see in the darkest places of our existence.
I will let thee drown in water, drown in thy sorrow and burn thy children. As there should be no continuance in thy existence. Thou are evil and filled with hatred.

the Queen of Night.
the Walking Wonder.
Quirky Delight.
a Living Thunder.

barking at Dogs.
necklace with Bloodstones.
saving small Frogs.
from traffic war Zones.

inciting Fights.
among the fence Poles.
dancing through Lights.
steps shared by lost Souls.

avoiding Cracks.
inside of Walkway.
fixing Syntax.
of ash in Ashtray.

gives pristine Jewels -
royal gift to Ants.
two sugar Cubes,
for loyal Servants.

another Bar.
moon isn't down Yet.
does not live Far
and longs to Forget.

purse full of Change.
deformed by train Wheels.
orders in French.
with cute smile that Heals.

sparks in her Eyes
reveal her Passion:
flirting with Guys -
out of Compassion.

avoiding Salt,
and telling Secrets.
touching Basalt,
with increased Frequence.

mourning for Wine -
four empty Glasses.
makes stars Align -
while playing with Matches.

walks out the Door.
with grace of stray Cat.
to a near Store.
just to get yelled At.

drowsy sun Yawns.
or so birds Whisper.
running though Lawns.
now streets will miss Her.

like drunken Bee.
and full of Chuckles.
finally Free.
yet always in Shackles.