So poor moon,nWith a cursed hand I rent my days,nLost in the woods,nThe curls and throats I never made.nnBlackened boughs and starlight shivering,nCobalt blues to crown my little home.nnHead for shore,nGot whins to raze, got clouds to spoil.nFor crow-miles I roll.nYou stopped staring skywards years ago.nnI stank of madness in your cities,nSleeping foes and towers in my way.nnThe clamber starts –nThe push and pull, the marking out with hearts in mouths,nThose precious traits you’re holding fast,nYou keep on holding fast.