by firelight
Moon
removed her mask
and spoke
of LACRIMAE LUNAE:
moon dew.

each night
whilst we sleep
Moon cries tears for the world

in the morning
after the long terrifying night
cleansed and purified
as perfectly transparent droplets
the tears
cling to blades of grass
and sleeping tramps.

now
daylight has passed
and the moon is wailing
and all has blended together
by the fire
where sparks of clover colour
cleverer than darkness
light the trees in the cemetary
which softly ullulate

the candles wink in their tombstone lairs

the ten-spoked window of the smashed crematorium
a wheel
hiding the flat world between her spokes
turns twice
for each dead soul that has flown up her chimney

strange twits and twoos emerge herbiferous
as we make useless diatribes:
"Jesus in the wildflower garden!"
"Mohammed and the cosmic egg!"
"Buddha within the Buddha within!"

we stand on our heads
and spit into the flames

i draw on your face
with sick red wax
trace new sinews
on to your tricep
burn my clothes
and dance in your beard

suddenly
a huge log
stands up on four legs
and jumps out of the fire
crashing through undergrowth
squealing like a wild boar

finally
we sweep the dark up under our jumpers
the dawn in the laughing leaves
emerging from our hole
stinking of smoke and wode

"Moondew! Moondew!
we are raised from the grave!"
dead streetwalkers
a strange reflection on winter's approaching lakes

and Lo
a Jehovah's Witness
accosts us in the street
and launches into well rehearsed sermon

and we dance around her singing
"God is Good!
Good is God!
We are Good!
We are God!"
to which she replies:
"You speak dust!
Blasphemers!"

perhaps we have planted an apple seed
in her breast

after that we go to Daisy's
pregnant with moonjuice
and behold
her baby-swole-belly
huge in the early bedsheets