I wish not on a star but a crescent moon
For that same steady light that sears not inside
And silver swathes over over heartshaped looms
And fills dragon veins in boiling tides.
Artemis, patron sweet, I care not for the chase
Nor the chaste nor untempered nor all you possess
I admit since June I’ve felt an older embrace
Now I care but for the stone, and not heiress.
I shun your pillars, I am now just a girl
For Man cannot be pure. I submit to that doom
Since heaven tempts less than my unclean world
And I loved not a star, but a crescent moon.