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On a Moonlit Night by Chris D’Errico




A technician of forsaken bits,

I trace your broken parts,

Assemble cartographies

Of where you might be.

Mouth full of dead fish,

Melodramatic crybaby.

Stuffed with whispers,

Another sweet epiphany.

A blood-flecked blade.

Giving birth to new grief,

A thunderclap of faith,

Vulgar shapes, stupid flesh.

What remains of our vows,

Ghost limbs, doctrines.

This is the music of escape,

Soundtrack for a slow murder.

Without fear of entrapment,

Conscience, or any whiff

Of loss or abandonment,

Birds spill from a mute sky.

The moon conceals its face,

Calm, frigid, unsinkable.


ABOUT:


Chris D’Errico lives in Las Vegas, Nevada, where he has worked as a cook, a neon sign maker, and an exterminator, among other vocational adventures. His writings and visual art have appeared in various analog and digital mediums for the past 20+ years; most recently in Wild Root Journal, and Panoply, a Literary Zine.


POET'S INSPO CHOICE:  The Witching Hour — Emily Magpie



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