THE WEAVE:

The door to the Library

opens, but it’s pitch dark.

Mars is spooked, “Hello?”

"Hi Mars,"  The Moon whispers
from over his shoulder.

He jolts, and spills 
his Cacao, everywhere.  
"What the fuck, Lunita?"

She kisses him on the cheek.
"Brew some more?  We can
drink it, together."

Mars puts the kettle on,
"So what's up, Lunita?"

"I had a vision, last night
and I was hoping to 
write it down here."

"So do it."

"Well, I'm a little
insubstantial, at the moment,
but I was hoping you could
help me do it."

"Sure, why not, I've got
a few more days here.
I'm sure Mercury won't care."

"It's about Surrender."

"I hate Surrender."

"OK."

"OK."

"Well... Will you help me
write it, anyways?"

"Sure, Lunita."

Mars sits down, to the type
-writer, on the coffee table.  
The Moon slides in behind him,
 
on the couch, in a smooth
movement.  Invisible arms, wrap 
around him, one hand on his heart

one on his navel. She rests
her chin, in the crook of his
neck, and looks over his shoulder

as she holds him.  And for 
a moment,  Mars does not
know if the words are hers

or his...

"When I was young, one 
of my chores was to pull 
weeds, from the cracks
in the patio.

The more foul my mood,
the harder it was,
to pull the creepers neatly
up, under the beating Sun,

but I found, if I asked them 
to help me uproot them, 
they would come gently.  
And I have quietly done this,

all my life.  Asking weeds
to surrender.  That is
the vision I have, for us,
this Moon.  May this cycle
 
bring easy weeding,
from the root; coming out
intact, and making room
for new possibility."

Mars finishes the dictation,
and sighs, wrapping his hands 
about her thighs, as he leans 
back, into her.  "Surrender 
does not sound so bad,"  
Mars whispers, as she 
plays with his hair. 
Lunita smiles, in the dark
of herself, holding him.
The kettle starts singing,
"Well then, let us
drink, to it."