Moonshine

My eye is a little scapegoat

running around on the moon


which is rock face,

soft face, anchor of light.


I kneel and

my knees are bathed in light.


I swing and it keens

my tilt and move.


I gasp as the shine

shivers along the back of my hand.


This push-me-pull-me angel

trails its fingers through the tide.


Tracts of darkness dissolve

now ocean’s a box which opens.


© Susan Taylor 2019


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