TURNED FROM MOON TO BONE
I welcome the gale’s cold kiss, the hail’s sharp teeth—
satisfied to be tossed in their black tide.
My copper pennies gleam like rusted blood
and I ask no more of “why” or “what if” —
the mind stripped bare, a crypt of silent stone.
Lingering ghosts of the past? I laid them in the earth
beneath my smile—a skull’s grim, quiet curve.
I turned my back on moon’s pale lament
and dawn’s false, bleaching glow—
I carve my rest place from bone and shadow,
no tangled thoughts to haunt the dark I’ve made my own.
🌘✨ 12132025. ©LanZhan
L