The moon held her soul


In the late along a road
from a city lights in fade
back to bleak, cold and quiet
through the silver wash of car splash,
inside her head, a car crash,
the moon held her soul

instead of crumbs of bread
she trailed tears, each one a silver drop
little lakes for ants
slugs on gravel black, a puddle
on she walks
stiletto through rubble
an ankle wobble
slip sprained and collapse
her head a hit
with the bricks

above she looked
heavens bruised
purple blue
and curtains pulled
and sky revealed
a ballerina of herself
grace and circles swam the clouds
and twist around
a glowing globe
of eyes
of wolf
of wooded
of treaded path
and paper shredded
letters, undelivered
no more, no more, talking
no more his eyes
no more his mouth hanging
no more, no more sorry

the raindrops tapping fingers
the fields combing, waving
the house stood a still gravestone
and the road a car running headlights
beside the kerb a cold kill reminder
an outstretch, a far reach
to a path
an island safely

she contemplated
she diving board readied
she open lips spoke
a final thank you upward
for the black, the tarmac bed
she cracked like a nutshell
while the moon
held her soul.


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