The Woman In the Moon
I used to gaze up at the moon with pity –
a woman there alone for centuries
casting rays of moonlight on the city
as lovers stroll and kiss, make memories
she’ll never have. What worse fate could there be?
Such coldness, silence, so much dust, a face
furrowed by years of loneliness at sea,
orbiting through the empty depths of space.
Today, as darkness falls, I understand —
she is the brightest body in this dead
of night. She takes up space – she’s full and grand.
Shamelessly, she shimmers, bold in red.
She smirks with lips of regolith, her eye
a crater, winking at me from the sky.
Katherine Hoerth is the author of four poetry books. Her most recent collection, Goddess Wears Cowboy Boots (Lamar University Literary Press, 2014) won the Helen C. Smith Prize from the Texas Institute of Letters. Her work has been included in journals such as Pleiades, Tupelo Quarterly, and Mezzo Cammin: A Journal of Formal Poetry by Women. Katherine teaches at the University of Texas Rio Grande Valley and serves as poetry editor of Devilfish Review. She lives in deep south Texas.