Widows of the moon dance
their disjointed steps across
the eye of night hoping
to lure mortal flesh to test
the maze of eternity.
In lace cuffs stitched with ice
and gray wind they turn cartwheels
across window ledges leaving notes
only nightmares can decipher.
Dreamers seasick with visions
roam their own imaginations
trying to escape what daylight
planted in their irises, and words
that are keys that never open doors.
Pale sisters of bladed slivers of light,
they wander the impatient breath
of 3:00 a.m. muting tongues that
pray for deliverance.
©Susie Clevenger 2023
