by John lawless |
Red Faced Moon
What have we done to make the moon blush?
Thrown accolades and love poems,
blamed her for the awakening of the vampires,
the werewolf’s bad hair day.
Perhaps Mars has whispered something,
a sensuous and tempting invite,
a clandestine rendezvous behind Earth’s shadow
to watch the sun rise.
Maybe, just this once,
she stayed too long in the sun,
forgot her sunblock,
had one too many cerveza.
John G. Lawless