the Sea of Tranquility
named by an imaginative soul
yet not a sea at all
a burnished, basalt hole
sunken eye watching humanity toil
a pockmarked director of tides
conducting diurnal rhythm
as we squander, as we spoil
heavenly, cyclic conductor
my monthly crimson hymn
whispers to your balsamic phase
a veiled face reflecting
in your lakes of saturnine solitude, of sorrow
floating weightless in Mare Fucunditatis
childless in my ferrous scented tomorrow