Blood Wolf Moon

In late winter the Moon
plays midwife to the water

An ice of thaws
not meter high snows
beats my teeth to bits
then comes that hollow rattle
either a failing alternator
or busted starter

I am out in the cold again
always in inadequate dress

But I digress-

Oh, Moon
the color of blood
a bleed out
of no more wolves
and no other moons
but by wolf’s blood
yes we do see a laser show
streaking the night:
Sputnik dogs
and ancient commie satellites

American answers
Chinese rejoinders
with the French and English
insisting how they too
are movers and shakers

A show of shows
launched from lands
where canids, bison and bears
hunted until someone
at sometime
took down the Mastodons

The one true Moon
suspended behind it all
awaiting his first visitors
what Thomas Pynchon called
a rocket trailing an orgasm

With everything seen
and nothing hidden
I catch you,
Moon
counting the napkins
under my roof
and naming the names
of my guests
but refusing nevertheless
to sit at my table.

About the Author

Jeremy Nathan Marks is a London, Ontario-based writer and amateur photographer. Recent poetry, micro fiction, and photography appear/will be appearing in Poets Reading The News, Writers Resist, Microfiction Mondays, Unlikely Stories, KYSO Flash, The Local Train, The Conclusion, As It Ought To Be, Front Porch Review, Poetry Pacific, Cajun Mutt, Rat’s Ass Review, Derelict Magazine, The Wire’s Dream, and Eunoia Review. His short story, “Detroit 2099” will be published in Stories of the Nature of Cities 2099 Anthology in early summer. To view more of their work click below.