Grappling
the midnight oil
Bathing
in its kerosene
Alit, we light
As
circumference smiles
Grasping
The moonlight,
with spoons
that writhe for
submersion.
Utensil
deep,
The
drowning ladle dies,
Suffocating
in ecstasy,
Each fatal moment,
Every tragic second,
Perfect slips from its
Shimmering ridge.
As It Seeps
Away
from
The
lip.
A
moonlight slipper
Consumed
with dew
Dreams
of cosmic pools
To
swim beneath,
To
drift upon
Anima,
persona
Unity,
bathed in quenching light
