WATERMARK

          Cold Moon

Each month I show you the same face,
and you call me a different name.

Now you call me Cold Moon,
but I am always cold.

You call me Long Night Moon,
but my nights are always long,

bright on one side, dark the other.
I am the same, always, and you

make of me what you desire. Magical,
monstrous, indifferent, muse.

I pull at your blood, and you
deny me. We yearn for one

another, stone of my stone, fire
of my fire, night of my night.

*****

For Digital Whisper: moon. Paper & elements from Jen Maddocks. The font is GlukMixer. The poem is mine.

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