Sleeping through the eclipse
All enshrouded mind blocked by the body’s
Shadow. By the tired turn of blood longings.
But sleep, flesh. The skein of spheres
Writhes into night’s wormed wood one more knot.
All enshrouded mind blocked by the body’s
Shadow. By the tired turn of blood longings.
But sleep, flesh. The skein of spheres
Writhes into night’s wormed wood one more knot.
Unwashed stainberry, as kids we threw you
At each other like our future fallen selves
The eclipsed moon. A burned match head.
Mars its angry ember mimicking the cold arc.
like two fingers of cloud
the moon leaves behind