Moon

I bark at the bathroom mirror
dark with its memories
of unshaven face.

I shine, like the moon
with a light from elsewhere.

Full of myself, like the moon
our appearances in the world
dictated by cyclic spin
or worse, calendars.

I fade, like the moon
dimmed by fleeting clouds.

My madness perks up its ears
the jitters, looking for skin
to crawl, come moonrise.

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