And its been antipathetic, like marking time in an
asylum, keeping arithmetical beat t’ a tympanum
trembling selfishly in detained agonies - & this is
a space neither invested in rhyme nor the sages
reasoning; nowt convenes, interpolates, or even
tries restraining an anarchy of meaninglessness
that laboured breathing & heartbeats iterate; it is
explained easily, they say, by the Hunter’s Moon
Well, for a week it has had the upper hand - with
no proper easing until last night; but in my being
awake before th’ sun’s rise details it as a farce &
wondering if its right t’ challenge the thinly veiled
supposition of consensual lunacy then woe’s me
for seeing there’s a Black Moon on the horizon
© 21 October 2016, I. D. Carswell
The Black Moon is due 31st October …
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