feathery sand and grainy clouds
conversing and reflecting la luna,
in agreement that she is god of the night
even as el sol shines high in china,
or some other hidden place over there.
ms. moon gives orders - don't dare decline -
to dance into trance and pay homage to your feet;
to sing with the wolves,
to love with bodies touching,
and to spin madly until the world wobbles toward reverse.
she will attest to your faithfulness,
to your bright blue stamp on humanity.
she will whisper your name as los nubes y la arena join hands in prayer.
then you will be compelled, with very little choice,
to worship deep into the night.
