A blood moon tonight &
licks of flame, fallen stars,
the ones from the mouths
of our ancestors,
a question I couldn’t answer.
Yet my bones sing.
Imagine your electric heart
pressed into that whorl
of ruby moon hyacinth.
A man boards a train
going somewhere.
Spider respins a broken web.
Moon walks in her sleep.
This splintered world,
the only one that matters.

As in the past, I offer for my last poem a cento from lines of poems posted here, this one from the writing of (in no particular order) Linda Bryant, Pam Campbell, Jim Lally, Jennifer Beckett, Nancy Jentsch, Kevin Nance, Liz Prather, Karen George, Tabitha Dial, Gaby Bedetti, Melva Sue Priddy, and Alissa, each of whom were kind enough to comment upon my meager offerings.