Redden my nails at sundown digging
the moon out with my bare hands
to bring to you from heaven’s cradled arms,
how a dog parcels a cardinal in her teeth.
What do you do with the moon?
You swallow it whole in the morning dew,
let the light in, let the rest go, render stone,
pitting a fruit gnawed out of sweetness.
Suck sugared blood out of a song about love
and offer me none, but let me wade in your wake.
You’re a devourer, I’m devout to your apathy
eclipsed by my own heart, it’s enormity.