New Moon

The murmur ends, and the sun still setting,
fleeing a faint orb in the endless well
sounding out threats it won’t bother to quell
it twists the same path on a string

The sky is a clay oven
We close our eyes and come out changed
doped out and deranged
smelling faintly of delusion

A kind of discontinued love

Aurora twirls her skirt in each descent
The rim of a spyglass
A steaming wine glass
We wait for her event

Each night is dark when she is faceless
We are stubborn, wait
and she is stubborn, straight,
and she wants to be a princess

Not a queen