Night’s onyx claw grips
each of us.
The regime of daylight
drips into us.
In these bleak times,
darkness’ sponge
eliminates the unwanted colors
that surround us.
The sky wiped clean,
impervious,
a surface that curses us.
There is no moon in sight,
on a numb and starry night.
©2023 | K.F. Hartless
Cover Artwork: Yosemite High Country Under the Stars by Don Smith
d’Verse Poet’s Pub | Quadrille #189: Poems Most Mad & Moonly
44 words featuring the “moon”
Leave a comment