She Loves Another

The moon is full, and the night

once again slips through my fingers.

You will hear me howling at the moon,

but not because I long for the moon,

but because somewhere, she is bathed

in its light, and I long to be the moonbeams

that caress her. This heart, that is cold 

like the moon, orbits her, as the moon

orbits the Earth, and rises above the horizon

just to see her, and sinks below the horizon

to weep, for she is another’s, proudly another’s,

and my heart aches to be near her—it pounds

at the door of my chest, wanting entry into a world

filled with love, pounds so hard that tears flow

from the ache of it. The moon is full, and the night

slips through my fingers. You can hear me howl,

but not for the moon. She slips through my fingers,

and my heart knocks at the door of my chest,

demanding love, and the tears flow like a river.

Such terrible longing. She howls, but cannot

hear me howl. She loves another, proudly

another.