The Moon Is …

Unblinking, coal-gem ringed,

The moon is a leopard’s stalking-death eye:

Cold-hot fixed intensity

In the star and cloud printed

Flung wide and far cloak of a sky;

Stretched full-tight on the cruel tenterhooks

Of heaven’s Frames.

Claws that have known blood (and will again) –

Sheathed and still in predator pads –

Rest in balanced pre ambush assassin tension

On civilisation’s compromised horizons.

Twitchless attack-habituated tail is iron disciplined,

White intelligent intuit-whiskers gauge the air; dividing

Life’s remaining brief clocks

Into ever smaller periods


Once she climbed the

Devil’s Staircase,

For me, for you,

With heritage-proud

Power in her roaring voice.

Now, atomic bat,

Drifting gracefully

Into history.


Supreme silver tiger,

Aggressive aluminium angel;

Somewhere between now

And past high sky circles.

Quietly saving civilisation

Until we could, ungratefully,

Reject you.