Anna Wigley
The Moon at 3am
I was woken by the moon
staring at me like a summoner
waiting for an answer.
I did not know what answer
the moon waited for.
But my soul shrank like a fox
caught in the beams of a torch
as it slinks from the henhouse.
O dreadful time
to wake, in the smallest hour,
in the moon's Jehovah gaze,
my little room chased
beyond hiding, my soul
with the steel on its fur.
Page(s) 23
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