Summer’s Passing

One day too late to me,

The moon bares its teeth,

Biting into a pale corpse head

And popping it.

Out, out!

It squeezes past a metaphor in white –

Searching for an everlasting memory

Caught in stone,

And yet somehow forgotten in

A brisk reality

Of late summer’s passing,

Watching s a faded sun passes through an empty window,

Yelling my name.

Yet I still awake the next morn’ ,

With a sharp claw pressed to my teeth,

Testing the water

As I reach to the sun,

Ready to say hello once again,

And it ponders a silent question,

Ready to press a subtle kiss to a temple in light.