An Ancient Light, Gathering

The moon mirrored the spine of her intent,
and so she had become a castaway
in the gluttony of her need,
a temporal goddess cast out into the sea.
She was without voice.

She had been born near the turn of a key,
on the western island of the Peridot. Blood lay
thickly upon the sand, and memories rose
to the surface like a crown of redemption.

She lay suspended in the web of his arms,
his tongue crucifying her against his will,
his pleasure shook the earth from under her hips,
and they found what all lovers find:
blood lay thickly carpeted upon the sand.

Memories rose from the sea,
spilling over
like a necklace of stars in the night,
like an ancient light making love to the crescent moon,
rolling clouds across their eyes.