i

The moon ate the dark
from which birthed the clawing violence
of nine, bloodied pomegranate seeds.
The wine spilled from a cavernous mouth,
but weakness is not always an undoing.

The moon ate the dark
as the centaur staked a heart.
He, half-man and half-beast Pholus
wandered towards the poisoned arrow
from which drew the first of life; then his last breath.

ii

The moon ate the dark
as I pondered upon my natal chart.
Nessus and Mercury dance in alliance to Libra,
while Chiron kneels to the iron-shelled crab.
But to whom do these beasts pledge their powers to?

The moon ate the dark
as she puzzles upon an insolvable clue:
A boy’s birth-sake, a girl’s christening?
“Why did you give me this name, Mother?”
To which was replied: “The answer lies within you.”

iii

The moon ate the dark
as dark waters swirled round his feet.
He; all lilyfingered grace, raises a hand to touch a withered bloom.
His blouse seems to melt in the shadows,
to gently caress puckering breasts underneath: she.

The moon ate the dark
as a forceful hand eagerly cupped a breast.
Ignoring her cries of “No, please!” as it heads towards her skirt –
Too late. First, the delight – then confusion, and horror as all is revealed:
the groaning, southern immolation exposed before his eyes. He.

iv

The moon ate the dark
as she sat by the lake, crying her eyes out.
Luna shimmered and Hades’s eyes glimmered, as they played out
the unresolvable tragedy in the shadows that strangled the light:
the world-weary drama of opposites; of black vs white.

The moon ate the dark
as he stopped crying and picked himself up.
The smile of a dagger, a prick’s blood from his palm.
“Maybe – maybe if I got rid of it,
I could lead an ordinary life again -”

v

The moon ate the dark
as an arrow hit the tree besides him;
jolting him out of the spell, pinning the dagger to the ground.
“Stop! Who’s there!” To which a half-man, half-beast answered him:
“It is I, Pholus!” the centaur bellowed, as he stuck his spear into the grass.

The moon ate the dark
as Pholus raised a mahogany stake to his eyes.
The boy trembled in return, as tears rolled down his cheeks.
“Why do you cry?” the gentle voice of Pholus asked,
to which the boy replied, “Because I am a freak – because I am not whole!”

vi

The moon ate the dark
as Pholus stared at the boy.
Then he gestures roughly towards his horse’s legs,
shouting: “But I am not whole too!”
“No!” the boy screamed. “That’s a totally different problem!”

vii

The moon ate the dark
as Pholus corked an eyebrow at him and sighed.
“How are you different from me?”
Then the next question surprises the boy.
“How are we so different from each other, in the end?”

viii

The moon ate the dark
as Pholus laid his stake on the boy’s shoulder.
“Let me tell you one thing that not everyone can understand,
or even hope to reach in their entire lifetime.”
“We, are special. We, are both. Light and shadow co-exist, not oppose.”

ix

The moon ate the dark
as the newborn dawn rose, colouring his eyes.
A tiny fish leapt out of the water,
while a soaring eagle snuffed its life in an iron grip.
The gentle ripple, outstretched, seemed to spread its infinite grace.

The moon ate the dark
as the beautiful hermaphrodite turned to Pholus.
“Thank you, Pholus, for enlightening me –
I wish you godspeed in your future endeavours.
It is now morning and I must head back home…”

x

The moon ate the dark
as I awake from my confused sleep.
“W-wha-? What just happened?”
The clouds continue their lazy drift in the midnight sky,
as the last piece neatly slides into place.

The moon pulls the infant sun
into its watery embrace,
as the natal chart trembles in my grip.
“Mother, mother – I don’t need you to tell me anymore,
because I finally know what you were trying to say!”

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DeanJean sees her writing as a creative opportunity to explore paths that stitch her interests and humour together. More of her work can be found at Zelda Reville: A Sea of Illusions