the hour is midnight.

the moon,
unhappy at her inconsistency,
shines dull for lovers tonight.
why, if the sun can burn,mighty and full,
every day, cant she stay round like
her mother's hips, night after night after night?
why must she be banished
to the dark depths of Night?where she shines
only for foolish lovers,
who find it obligatory to write sweet silly lines
about her.if only they knew, how little
she cared and how little they meant.
the moon,
idle and indifferent, insensitve and insipid,
shines none for lovers tonight.