Strawberry moon
bleeds crimson
through altocumulus fingers.
Once a luminary
tempting peeks
and love-longing stares,
I rip you now from darkness,
drained of love,
like me.
Throat cinched.
Heart speared.
Flesh infected.
Devil moon,
cloud-scratched,
drained of light;
a reflection of me.
My eyes close with these
clenching cloud fingers
squeezing what remains
into star-drops
splattering obsidian skies.
Tracy Ahrens lives just south of Chicago, Illinois and has been a journalist/writer for over 30 years. She has published 10 books, including two non-fiction works, five children’s books and three books of poetry. She had earned 115 writing awards. Her poems have appeared with The Ravens Perch before. www.tracyahrens.weebly.com.
