We come from the night,
a crop of stars in our hair,
dancing with bodies bare,
knowing the sun must rise.
A taste of moonlight so rare
fills our senses, tip to tail.
A blood-wind fills our sails,
our ship wild as sable mares.
Under the moon, skins pale
glow glassy and ghostly bright.
We creatures, children of the night;
free until the darkness fails.
Poem XXXVI
M.M. — 30-May-2013
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