the lady and the moon [dame kate]

her heart, it’s said,
she lost too soon.
such is the short tragedy,
of the lady and the moon.

a sunday rain drenched her to the bone,
lovesick she waited outside his home,
he never came.
still, it rained.
our dame studied the pistol lying in her devils hand,
raised it to her temple and-

her heart, it’s said,
she lost too soon.
such is the short tragedy,
of the lady and the moon.

he found her lying flat, moonlight in her hair.
and with much too little care,
he dragged her around the back-
burying her there.
mother moon watched,
though she turned gray at the sight.
such a black soul,
was enough to chill that night.

the world shivered.

he shoveled in that last bit of dirt,
kate wailed his name from her grave,
he quickly hissed, behave.
following the threat with two blows to the mound.
the spade struck bluntly
not making a sound.
the moon put her hands upon her eyes,
so the stars would not feel the silver tears raining down-

her heart, it’s said,
she lost too soon.
such is the short tragedy,
of the lady and the moon.

alas,
la lune lowered herself from her hazy home,
peering through the muddy earth,
whatever shall be done must be done is haste.
there is, no time to waste.

calling all angels,
quickly you rouge knaves!
eat away this dirt,
save a lady from a grave.
the bullet missed her heart just barely,
i’ll talk to her gently, as long as she still hears me.
hurry, before her face becomes food for the roses,
tonight we’ll practice salvation,
be sure everybody knows this.

thus took place kate’s resurrection.

once the light hit her squarely
she blinked in pitiful fear,
he had left her stark,
worry not, said la lune,
i am here.

raised from her plot
and lowered from her terror
she tentatively began counting stars,
bucking violently before the mirror.
two angels held it fast to the grass,
again she’ll see her beauty.
the pieces of her broken heart
running through her hair and flowing forth from her eyes,
the moon finally exhaled for she had done her duty,

and god was satisfied.

what was his name?
the boy i’ll not mention,
his crimes to great.
but pray, pay attention
to this story of dame kate.

in the game of hearts,
she folded too soon.
now her tales forever scribbled in the stars,
as the lady and the moon.

i’ll mail this letter,
when morning rides in the mouth of the sun.
in the sunrise i’ll pen the final details of
dame kate's murder and resurrection-
those this riddles not told in total perfection.
head this-
remember my letter when your more dramtic emotion
dips you in a glittering luster,
don’t ever forget.
caution is all i beg of you so
please continue to love,

as we all must do.

now when the moon is full and round
trace the pattern of the light she’s casting down,
follow the zig zag to the markings in the street,
where dame kate once stood foolish,
were she and death were to meet.

her heart, it’s said,
she lost too soon-
such is the short tragedy,

of the lady and the moon-


bon chance,
Vi.