When did I forget the full moon really had no face?
She was beautiful anyways
her black shadow hair glimmering with shards of stolen white diamonds
she danced in a buckskin dress made from the ghost of a deer
it had no bead-work.
She used to whisper lies
frostbitten kisses burned my cheeks
oh her lips against mine
what I thought was lapis lazuli was turquoise instead
I valued it still.
Some nights I go back
sit alone on those hilltops
among long grasses bent with the burden of seed
watch waters below mirror endlessness
until her weeping ripples the sky.
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