THE HOWL

i bleach the sky
to bone — each night
wrong heavier than
sun can lift
two moons
howl
round
alone
they’re always
there
(aren’t they)
whatever i’ve
doneornotdone
till all is ghost —
& wrong heaves up
a blackboilingsea
the moons become
twoFangs
tearing night
apart
at last
& shriek
thou art
thou always
wert
with
me
then silence
mounts
on hoofs
of frost
heavens fold
like brokenwings
no Right
no Wrong
survives
only
the howl
that wears
my name
and
sings