Less than animal
Tonight I sit watching the moon make its way across the sky. Caught in the clouds, caught in its own ring of dulled-down light. And I watch it make my wall gold and stretched. The shadows
make brickwork. They make granite and mortar from some inconstant less-than-fluid. I’m listening to my favourite harp twangs, hearing the perfect oscillating notes and words that will mean
something always. I crouched like a hound and stared chin up, eyes wide at the moon. I watched the bats breach the human confines and mix up what I can handle. There are wings in my room and a part
of my doggedness out there for the moon and the lines are fading round what I can accept. Tonight I think we’re less than animal, we’re making too many mistakes. I’m open mouthed and not blinking,
trying to keep thoughts of you at bay. The lady in my ear keeps me; from howling tonight and she keeps you from fucking me up just bit more. Stay off the floor. Do not bite chew or scratch. Keep
your eyes on the moon and trace it down in sleep, you mutt. I’ll close the door on you. I’ll close the God-damned door on you.
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