---

Ride the inside line of the lunar spiral

Sigh deep and cry loud, and scuttle deeper

Into the Loamy grave

we are stripped of our earnestness

casting a shadow longer than a sculpted moon

Frightened looking yon, a hand coated in diamonds

drags me from capture, the answer swiftly rides

on the inside line

of a sickle or a scythe

they are the same curve

as the ageing moon.