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~

• Dear Anima
• Sylvie’s Poetry Portfolio