//------------------------------//
// Poem for Luna 
// Story: Poems for Luna 
// by alafoel 
//------------------------------//

I lay,
scrunched in our palace,
tears running down
not in
overwhelm
but absence.

Of the perfect words
flowing from taut maw,
of singing lullaby 
to sleep.

I was there once,
when it was simple.
The string hum
harp of tongue
and teeth
of whispers in twitchy ear
to console.

There are many twitchy ears

to console. 


Absence makes the
Oh!
Oh, but dash it!
Screw it!
Smash it against the wall!
and in our palace,
in the absence of dream,
in the overwhelm of
Salt and Fear
of twitching hoof
and twitchy ear…

There are no whispers.

And I have
to go back on.