True Nature

A wolf howls skywards

To tell the pale, waxing moon

Of the solar death

The raven squawks in flight

As it tells the morning star

Of the sun’s rebirth

A man cries alone

Unaware of dark or light

In his Brexit hell

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Blood Moon

“Sweet Katarina, dance for me”,
said the man with the black balloon,
whose face looked rather like a wolf
if glanced in the back of a spoon -
and for each dance she did for him
he would pass her another string
with a midnight helium ball
tied on to its end with a ring.

She danced until her little hands
were full of the magical twine
and the villagers all agreed
they’d ne...

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