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)

Etruscan Tomb: An Inventory