Black Moon Swan-Woman

A riddle of magical gems and

River shells, She is sprigs of rosemary and

Brass wind-chime earrings with those

Beaded, ornamented limbs and

Caramel skin

So lightly draped beneath the burn

of Harvest moon.

Wild mane of copper fire hair

Her deer doe eyes take you in

Squeeze madness sugared into your

Blood and spit you out

Something else entirely.

Earth goddess roams the

Apocalyptic shadows that

Even the most

Rational and scholarly of minds

Hide

And seek,

Unknowingly She is such a

Stunning beast,

Culture wars fought and raged over and

She alone is

Such a seductive and perfect destruction.

Glowing and gold and black and

Feathers which so gracefully match

The water's dangerous depth

Revealing the endlessness, the

Inevitability of a sex

As beguiling as death.

You know her by her fragrance

She claims lovelessness as her own

But she is never less than love nor

Is she worthy

Of anything but.

Her teasing flames movelessly cross along

My skin like leaves shading,

The luster of her shoulder blades and she is

Moonshine throbbing

On body and on high.

She is my own personal and

Beloved

Sorceress of high summer or

September,

October,

the Fall of one thousand autumns and

Even in winter her colors do not shed.

She is where I flee

These nights that I do not know myself,

I know nothing but my urge to run.