Last-night
there was an eclipse;
But not of blood orange
shadows
draped on a dazed moon.
No.
'twas of my blood red
pulsing heart
accepting its solitude
in the shadow of yours.

Sleep has grown tired
of my demands.
I ask more of it
on shortened nights.
Seduced by warmth.
Betrayed by sudden
consciousness.
I stir, I sit
I speculate.
Perhaps the moon,
she nudges me in my sleep;
to wake and keep her company.

And so, the waves
returned to my feet.
That lunar beauty
had stolen them away.
She bellied the ocean
bent it elliptic;
stretching the walk
from me to tide.
But no longer full
her grip weakened.
Salt water trickled
from her fingers
to rush cold
between my toes.