Under the Same Moon

For my Moon Woman…

“The funny part?”

The human asked as it stared through the canvas to the wall

“After all the paintings and the engravings and models,

after every effort to mimic and every facsimile made in paint and ink and wood,

after every poem written to its heavenly shape

lauding its purity, its beauty, its aphrodisiac effect,

after making of it a lover or a mother or a curse,

after all these versions and interpretations of its form,

We’ve all been born and died under the same moon.”