Moondust
Feeling lost in the cycles of the day—
rising, falling, changing, turning.
The coarse wool pulled over my eyes
is unforgiving and these broken claws,
filed to moondust, cannot do my bidding.
Endless gnawing and clawing
trying to detach from this hide;
surrendered, whimpered cries to the night—
in the moon, hopelessly, I do trust.