Blood Moon

Full, yes

All crescents round

shadows turned down

The dark sides extinguished

And if

there’s a man up there

He grins sheepishly

From the soft orange

tiger lily

-but diluted

Cream white of a peony

(pastel circus peanut)

(muted meringue cookie)

What I’m saying, my dear

Is your blood moon

-It bores me

Where’s the drip?

The slick


crimson of an organ

near black of a fresh spill

That tightens and squelches

Look! It’s

Receded behind a cloud

What now?

Do we draw breath in its vacancy?

Allow ourselves a reprieve

Is that it?

Or is it embarrassed?

Humble in its bloodlessness

I wanted the taste of metal

The real shock of it all

I wanted my goddamn heart strung up

Pulled through


Something for my lungs to cry out to

A reason to expand and contract


But, alas...

The vampires gather

At the 24-hour diner

And werewolves line the soda shops

Nothing unusual tonight, they’ll say

adjusting their stakes and

Dabbing their lips

We were told of a wonder

A biannual

Celestial creature

But what we see there

-steady phosphorescence

Familiar in its listlessness

Is that borrowed mediocrity

neither fire nor heat

Turn your calendars to August

Your blood moon, it bores me

July 30, 2018