Once The Moon

Throw me a line;
give me a clue,
a bone,
a wish,
a star, a stick.

A stick,
give me a stick,
a shield,
anything, anything at all!

I am not just drowning out here;

I am drowning
in rivers of blood
that both boil
and chill
and wind about my ankles like vines,

to pull me under
a tide so red

there is no more blue to the sky,
only a murky bullet hole,
where was
once the moon.

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