Look to the moon, my morning
darling. She has been named
chaste; barren; virginal; an untouched
goddess.

But look closer, sweet. Peer on her confectionary
surface. See there, and there,
and there – a crater. She is, perhaps,
imperfect.

Her marred flesh is too often overlooked
by poets and lovers and mothers
telling fairy tales. Thus through the years, she was our
dear one.

We confessed our sins to her, professed
our love by her, indulged in her, but
never saw her for what she really was –
a deception.

O, yes; Satan’s daughter has made fools of us
all.