My Moon, This Month

When my moon hits the month with a red fervency,
crashing into a black tear-stained sky just above me,
one moment I cry and the next I smile then cry again.
Every emotion spins around on a wild Merry-Go-Round
but nothing is merry around here, only bloody as Mary.
Throbbing skull and pounding pelvis ruin a beautiful day,
and I just wish that I could recline in graceful robes, like Cleopatra.
But all my pretty dresses and gowns wear a nasty crimson blot
thanks to the moon's interference with this month.