it is the moon that watches over her

(with gratitude and all due thanks to Lorca)

the moon watches over her, tends to her,
the moon is tending to her
the chaste girl
in her white chrisantemum coffin
the moon is watching over her
tends to her
and kisses her closed eyelids
the moon lubricious and pure
watches over her and dances
here is my sepulture
sings the moon
here in my heart
sings the sun––


--Lorena Wolfman © 2013