A blood(shot) moon.
Further poetry catch-up. Here’s my terza rima from Tuesday…From which I learned that terza rima is HARD to make sense and execute elegantly. I’ve done my best!
As you may be able to surmise from the title, it’s about the current tetrad of blood moons – although not in an apocalyptic way – and about eyes.
(If you’re reading this and also wear contact lenses, perhaps the odd experience of looking into your eye and wiggling the plastic retina back and forth (like a little eclipse) to make it more comfortable, may resonate…)
Bloodshot Moons
These hours, when shining faces become slurred
the centre of my eyes are inverse moons:
their two gasping auroras speak the word
water. For midnight here is scorched high-noon,
when plastic sight eclipses. Space is blurred
and my dry lens is a dish for the spoon
of tomorrow morning’s lost ellipses.
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