Moon: God Series

Wet through -  
out bleeds a creamy white in streams from your cracked, half-naked skin  
that harbours light on ships who trust your vessel,  
as no other,  

sea - she knows your name,  
she sees you as a fierce force of long forgotten fantasy,  
she dances beneath you as if you were  
her Maypole,  
she fertile and swollen  
at the height of her readiness.  
 
A song plays when you  
are crumbling on the inside, expending your energy, descending  
into darkness -  
as dear Persephone before you.  
 
We know your shell,  
we who baptise beneath you  
and worship you -  
holy, in your light,  
in your rest,  
in the gift of a ghost,  
who haunts from above -  
maybe it always was you,  
maybe it got lost in the translations of time  
 
- dear Moon,  
I do not forget to revere you.  
I do not forget to give thanks,  
to strip down  
as day I was born and  
wade into the church of your choosing.