Graveyards at Midnight

Saint Louis Cathedral at Night

What is a Full Moon without fear and excitement? Without challenge and reward? Without loss and greater gain? This is a Full Moon focused on finding the balance between Leo and Aquarius, ego, romance, and friendship, with the Sun leaving my beloved Capricorn just as we approach the duel between the Cailleach and the Bride, the one playing with love and fire and fearlessness and the other with wind and water and Death and the passive dark cold. Cards were read under moonlight with brass bands blaring by hereditary witches with purple-painted fingernails while Catholics warned me about witchcraft. The subtle cruel art of manipulation was played from all corners, while the uninitiated were spun round like wool on a spool. Harsh cold words were spoken, secrets were spilled that cannot be unsaid, but when the wall finally fell, two dancers on the web of life were closer than ever, the wyrd tangling round like mating banana slugs. Never have the words been more true, “There is a solution for everything. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

Sometimes graveyard love-making under the Moon and stars is just the way, and so we hopped the brick wall to the oldest cemetery in the vibrant but creaking Crescent City where fresh warm chicken’s blood is still smeared on tombs at midnight sacrifices and where we were made naked, flesh and bone and salt and blood, on a marble altar. He spat the bone and liquor offering on the grave and we crept away from flashing police lights at the nearby projects reeking beautifully of sex and death and graveyard dirt and after gifting our dripping love to the anonymous dead in the brick grave (the old man we both knew was in there loved it) we skipped home, shielded by our magic against humanity’s awfulness, just for a moment.

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