slivered to eighths, and thirds and halves tonight,
bitten, smothered, and bloodied, but largely ignored.
Has the moon absorbed ALL the air for its survival?
I gasp. And the battle rages outside the shop window,
the moon wrestling for light, struggling in the shadow.
Crescent beam rests on the palm frond near defeated,
gasping for a second wind before a last laser sabre stab.
And then–fade to dust, blackened sky longing, airless.
“Oh black night, I rest inside you, my Jonah, forgotten,
caged bones’ anonymity, unheard, unseen–un-re(a)d.”