The sun set with
moribund, neon
afterglow.

I saw the moon's
red veins that night.

Shifting through craters,
like dilated amber eyes.
Amber as stolen whiskey.

The anemic face
enveloped by the sky.
Dark as a sink full of blood.

Shadows crept like lines
of marching ants, intruding
the grainy hills, carrying
carrion on shiny, spherical
backs.

Again, the moon -
dying under a thousand
rain drops, that float
to my bare arms
like the scales of
beached mermaids.

The moon like an atom
bomb in limbo.
It's pale light like
green tractor beams.