Katrina Kaye

When the sky is black
against the shine of full belly moon,
I hear your call.

You grin yellow nicotine teeth,
breathing smoke from last night
when the harvest moon
caught you in mind leap.

Sometimes I think
I am the only person in
the world who longs for
the jaundice of the night’s sky,
who wants to wrap myself
in the foul yellow glow
you spread as invitation.

I wade waist deep
into the bright of black
and trace your fleeing form
with eyes too often
closed to the wonder
of full moon.

You have a way of
insisting on more than
what my fingertips can
ever reach so I merely
watch, hold my breath,
keep your silence.

It is what you love
about me.

‘Rabbit Moon” is previously published at La Luna – Visions of the Moon at Tortuga Gallery (2020).