I missed the publication of this poem this morning, but the nice thing about Lunar conjunctions with planets is that you get one every 28 days or so. She’ll be back around for another pass.
Greetings to you, bright Moon with Pluto met,
each suspicious of the other's intent:
one's the House that wins almost every bet,
and clips the edges of every red cent,
and takes a bite of every transaction.
anf one, in luminous fertility,
sends forth souls and dreams with wild plenty —
babies and board games and muse-writ fiction,
abundance beyond generosity,
as though her vaults could never be empty.
What Pluto captures, he never gives back
(not without rules, codicils, double deals), —
and though he's always dressed in miser's black
he revels in the valuables he steals...
the lost wedding ring and the golden coin,
family photo books lost in the fire,
the old auntie's heartbeat, the babe's last breath.
"Shipping and handling" he loves to purloin
from local merchants, when what you desire
is found cheap online — each costs a small death...
while she gives away her bounty for free.
Oh queen of stories, and empress of night,
my life should be no purse for renter's fee
though I'm sore charged for my own delight —
But give me some song or story that's mine,
that neither Death nor merchants' grubbing paws
should take their due without just recompense:
A life well-lived is numinous, divine,
and though it's subject to demanding laws —
it's worth much more than Charon's eyelid-pence.
That’s the downside of lunar conjunctions too, though… no matter how rough or difficult they may feel… there’s always going to be another one in short order: best be prepared.
