18. licks

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speak with my tongues
when the moon wanders through the puddles at night
screaming mindlessly with a waning crescent of a face

the sight of words but echoes of the wheezing of flying for centuries stars
like the creator’s dandruff is the light of extinct suns
falls into the eyes of those who look but do not see

licks the sky with tongues of lightning horizon
star-shielding clouds are worn as glasses on the gaps in the crowns
momentarily covering the flights of the heavenly dead

when the sky erases the cloudy haze
the cosmos will spill with its milky tongue again
talk about life with my Sun