4:47am

New moon speaks softly outside window pane
in sleep,
there is no forgetting
your psychic mother rides again.

Possesses the overhanging cliff
past the back projection --
fly to shamanic hideaway.

Biting, unseen insects breed
beneath
your thighs,
walking into the tall, wet grasses.

You keep waking yourself
from the fear,
and their hard bodies on you.
But they never hurt you.
You feel no pain.

Stick around and see
what they have
to say, next time.
Moon slips away…

~ M. Lucia