The Moon Keeps It All For Herself

The stars roll on, throught the night, until dawn.
The moon keeps it all to herself, keeps it so dark.
The little radio brings news of the war, of aliens.
Then there’s music for lovers and no heart to dance.
 A voice of some woman, soft and dark and full of loss
tells of the changing fortunes, the burning cities, plains.
I make a goddess of that voice, the only sweet thing here.
I imagine kissing those lips, and starting over with her here.
 I was a wanderer when it began, I am quiet among the forest.
I wandered city to city, looking for peace, I find it my kind’s death.
The night soothes me, the stars are quiet, and so is my broken head.
I have a picture of a woman. I pretend it’s a wife killed by the flames.
 That woman comes on, in the darkest part, in the loss of all light.
She sings a worthless hymn, to a dream that drew blood from my tears.
It’s still beautiful, but I turn away from her, and wait for the endless life
that leaves me in the empty forest, a useless paradise where Adam eats nothing.
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