Diana, Or Maybe Artemis

The moon full
Swelled, imperious,
Pale gold,
Inches from the hills.

Its light looks cold
But we know
Better.

It shows only its hot face,
Its light forces and fills
Radiates the fair shine
Like that light that smile that fast happiness
That comes from mine.

And in kind,
I will show you just one side-
I wonder if you will ever know
That there may be difference
between
That which I reflect
And that which I glow.

There may be a way for me
To turn my head
Display the black face,
Bathed in darkness,
Open to the icy vacuum of space;
Frosted,
Cratered,
Rough.
Cool dust, pale snow.

So in this harvest time
I must decide
Which temperature
I am going
To show.