The moon at times is hunched and old,
…..deformed, a decadent yellow,
a jealous seed of sun gone cold,
…..a decrepit has-been fellow.
He’s leering at the summer night,
…..rising in a sea of sweat
above the hilltown’s wavering light,
…..tumid, heavy, pocked, and wet.
…..
(First published in Blue Unicorn)
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