Crescent Cuts

Crescent Cuts


Look there.
The moon has sharpened a khopesh.
Her silvery features flicker invitingly.

“Reach up,” She begs, “Grasp
My handle. Pull me forth.”
I crawl along a sword’s crimson edge.

The slow streaking burn marks
My skin. Only the day’s glow
Stifles her will. At night
The whispers echo within-
A nightly butcher,
A dark thirst.

Look here.
The moon has made her mark.
Luna’s light seared my flesh,
Burnt from the kiss of
An ethereal blade.

Referenced In~

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