The Conjurer

ECLIPSE



Your off the cuff comments,
dressed with my suspicion,
perceiving more then what you ever said

I probe slightly like a blind surgeon
around with curved intonation
The last sliver of the moon caught in my throat
with a direct question
Sacrifice the crescent
for a sickle

She,
silent,
her pain
my sickle

Mistrust
takes over the brightness of the moon
and the obvious
as it slides the light to the edge
and then off...

Eclipse.

Trust in what you can't see
Love is all you believe.