Luna

The earth turns, and it rises up over the trees

harmlessly dangling in the black sky – veiled in haze.

(Though I know that the haze is nowhere near it.)

It stares at me and I stare back. A test of wills, I think. But not really.

It owns my ass. And it doesn’t even care. It doesn’t even know I exist

as it draws the blood up tightly into the top of my brain each month –

A torturous affair in which fear and anger stomp around for a few days

shaking the rafters

– dust flying about.

Covering me in haze.

It mocks me, I think. But I know better. It doesn’t even know I’m down here.

I drop my gaze, and walk inside. Where it’s safer.

***