Moonlight’s No
Longer for Mating
LindaAnn
LoSchiavo
"My
friend is by no means Dracula or a werewolf, /
but
the full moon’s mostly lawless beauty /
has
never failed to tantalize him, / to lure him outdoors. …"
—
"His Own Apollo" by Cyrus Cassells [Poetry Magazine, April 2024]
My fickle mistress flirts in sunset’s realm,
Exerting her dominance over tides,
Sublunary pursuits, love’s lunatics.
A crackle of illicit energy
Fueled my romantic side, poised for kissing
―
Midnight’s orb extending permission.
Intense seduction. Courtship’s hide and
seek.
Exploring undercover all night long,
We lapped up moonlight as lambs from the trough.
Before. Normality. Once I was you,
Enjoying moonbeams’ magical effects,
Infatuation casting its drunken spell.
A cruel curse bent reality, turned me
Against my better nature, stealing pure
Humanity. Like mythical figures ―
Exchanging skin for bark ― I was condemned
To monstrousness, evicted from the tribe
Obeying time, commandments, man-made laws.
Immortal now, enslaved by sly full moons,
I’m Grim, transforming terrified faces
With peaceful rigor mortis as I feed.
Never will I say the words, "Forgive me."
