a crescent in mourningthe moon is violent in the sky again tonight.
i watch it seethe, bald, it's o-mouth
kept wide in a pale scream.
the luna moth is carved into my back.
the witches testament. i howl with my animal
heart-ache, the moon replying in cold silence.
my muscles tense
and i feel the fluttering of sick wings
spreading inside my belly
while i grasp onto the silence of a mute antennae.
Poetry by anguisette
Read 966 times
Written on 2010-03-14 at 04:07
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