The moon’s <br />a real Lady MacBeth <br /> <br />tonight <br />dashing about the sky <br /> <br />as if it were her own <br />private theatre of heartbreak. <br /> <br />trailing her unbuttoned <br />dress of clouds <br />behind her. <br /> <br />“Out...out damn spot! ” <br /> <br />“Out...out...damn spot! ” <br />the trees repeat <br />like a Greek chorus <br /> <br />as the wind <br />scatters hysterically her hair <br /> <br />and she throws herself <br />off a battlement of cloud <br /> <br />to the east <br /> <br />the new day <br />bloody with beginning <br /> <br />tomorrow
