The Savage Moon
The clouds… Tonight they hide her, but she’s there:
A savage, ghostly horse without a rider.
The elders claim, “A feral, vengeful mare
Who menaces and circles ever wider
To blight the night!” I quake! This is no myth
Of frightened men, no cloak of words to hide
Foreboding from an Orb which stares down with
A hunter’s eye. The Moon means ill! The tide
She pulls to her she means to choke. The ebb
Is but the shore-line’s strangled gasp for air.
She stalks us as she circle-spins a web,
As hungry spiders must, about our sphere.
Take guard! Beware until the Moon is new,
Lest we give up as worlds are wont to do.
Omens
Those spider webs upon the wall
Resemble tea leaves which recall
The image of a rooster bound
With cobra entrails on the ground
That echo etchings in your palms
Yet fail to curb nightmarish qualms
When séance hexes fail to guard
Against the baleful Tarot card,
That proffers mystical misrule
For choosing Priestess, Empress, Fool,
Who all are superseded—all!—
By shadows in the crystal ball
That fog the fears they should forfend or,
Draw you to the Witch of Endor
Hissing death, yet for myself I
Fain would seek the priests of Delphi
Whose pronouncements offer much
Though cursed by some as out of touch.
No, Destiny demands we wait
For Time to crack, divulging Fate.
Brian Yapko is a retired lawyer whose poetry has appeared in over fifty journals. He is the winner of the 2023 SCP International Poetry Competition. Brian is also the author of several short stories, the science fiction novel El Nuevo Mundo and the gothic archaeological novel Bleeding Stone. He lives in Bradenton, Florida.
