What Would the Moon Say, If It Could Speak?
I was the hollowed heart and I was the skull of the sky.
I laid the mist and pulled the memory of water, like a blanket,
From the dissolute dreams lying like oil on the eternal road.
But I was never one to conjure myself out of the darkness.
The sun did that; silvered the scars, smoothed the hollows.
I was the revenant city when you first saw my true face.
I was a man. I was a woman. An eye. A hare. A coin.
I . . . I forgot the question. Darkness carves me thin.
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