By Oh entrancing she in silver light
shines down
what dreams we see are orchestrated
by her stoic, pallid face
and in ten hours hence
a fence will rise
the earth’s girth blocks
her lover’s light
the sun
and so in trembling rage
she’ll pick a different hue
a bloody menstruation
to her face the earth will glue
Diana, Luna, Phoebe
and the million other names that I don’t know
give blessing to the ones tonight
who feast upon your crimson show
we sing, we dance, we chant
we bow to you exalted queen
please lend this solo scribe
a scrap of your immense esteem
Abbey Pope 