There’s more devil in a brooding silver crescent moon
than an unseen underworld that plays its demon drum
to panic my insomnia.
Moonlight writes its play in shadows and I chase whispers
hoping it is a lover’s spell breaking the lock of my
melancholy.
Not every soul can feel poetry nor lips speak its language,
yet I bait night with verses trying to fill empty with
words.
I am ink and a murder of crows trying to peck sunlight
into nightmares the moon walks across my eyelids.
Where is love, the heart shaped wishes planted in Luna’s
wink?
underworld, colonnade, seethe, crescent, faint,
sunshine, east, brooding foolish, silver
sunshine, east, brooding foolish, silver
