Non-Erotic PoetryMy lunar reflectionThe full moon has started
to become paranoid. Afraid
that the stars have become
the centre of attention,
it has scraped its fingernails
on the sea bed, making
the sleeping world stop
and wake. Nobody
has speculated as to the cause
of its madness or why its face
looks so long and its skin
so white, as if in mourning.
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