Once In a Half-Baked Moon

You may be one who knows the history behind  “The Ides of March,” and you may even be one who is superstitious about it. I’m fascinated by it, and I enjoy learning new things about the moon and the ancient lunar calendar, but I hold no superstitions. Did you know that we have two full moons in March? You can learn a lot of cool factoids about the moon by watching this video by Dave Brody on Science.com.

My head has been swimming with The Ides of March, the moon phases, and other fabulous events this month, all of which have inspired me to write a prose poem titled “Once In a Half-Baked Moon.” I hope you enjoy it.

-dbl


                        Once In a Half-Baked Moon

On the Ides of March, Paco donned his clown face,
and as grace would have it, his unchaste mate Margarit 
had just run off with his best friend Moto; in sum,  
his marriage was done, the sun had hidden its face, 
but the show had to go on. He knew how everyone becomes
undone sometimes, unraveled and strung out on ego.

So he displayed anguish on stage, but a once apathetic 
crowd cackled and giggled, teehee, hee-haw, but 
the flummoxed clown held no contempt, because everyone
pretends to be what they are not at times,
and despite the knife twisting in his heart, 
he began to shake with laughter. 

Paco soaked in the balm of laughter. He began
weeping with laughter, and after the audience
had swept through the exits, Paco sat on stage
weeping with laughter. 

He wept and kept at it until the Ides were long gone.
Then one clear morning before the sun came up,
he stepped into the garden while the moon flirted 
with Jupiter, Venus and Mercury. 
A herd of stags silently vaulted through the rushes
and a warren of march hares flashed out of sight. 
Paco walked. Down a hill and through the woods. 
He paused before a pool of water. 
He stood, magnified in the pool by moonlight
and marveled at his face. A once crestfallen clown
smiled. 

Suddenly his best friend Maribelle appeared
in the pool. Two smiling clowns. Maribelle,
in her ever-amusing manner, offered her thoughts:    
"These woods may be a stage but
we no longer have to be players."
Paco turned to Maribelle and responded,
"May it never be between you and me."
Their faces brightened and their lips met
under a half-baked moon.
And life went on.  



 

 

 

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