One hundred and three years old today.
Her silver beard of a single hair stretches
from chin to floor.
The fruit of Poseidon's rape of Cynthia.
Her lovers have included Cleopatra,
Hercules, Frieda Kahlo, and the god Pan.
In the dark, fetid gloom of
her basement apartment,
her belly stretches and ripens
with each passing day.
She awaits the miracle
promised by Pan:
the birth of Earth's second moon.
A moon eternally full,
the moon of limitless
possibility, a moon visible
only to hearts shorn of shadows.
David Kowalczyk
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/paladin-dreams-the-muse-of-tarzana-california/
