In the deep star-dotted sky,
the witch of the Red Moon
lays down inside its crescent shape
and sways to the tune of her heart.
Her ink-black hair glistens
with its sprinkles of star-dust
as she paints the sultry night
with new constellations. Shapes
formed by the mist of her breath.
A shooting star cupped in her hands.
She wears the yellow of the stars
in the bodice of her blouse,
the red of her hot blood is woven
into the fabric of her skirt.
Passions drip down upon
young and old lovers who gaze up
at the crimson moonlight. Rivers
of love sweep over their hearts,
glaze over their minds, tuck
their emotions into a savory bed.
The witch of allure smiles
at the spells that she casts
as the red-passion she creates
flows down from the corners
of her seductive perch inside
the crescent-shaped moon of red.
