The lit rim curves in air
Where roof becomes a tangent;
Is like a scimitar poised
This moon-tusk of mammoth night
Whose pelt is wet
From sipping at the swells of space
And starred with droplets
Still snatching at a fading light.
Refer to: Jun 2020 – The moon in June
This is a powerful, evocative and original image.
I absolutely agree. The compound ‘moon-tusk’ and alliteration of ‘sipping at the swells of space’ remind me of Anglo Saxon poetry.
I love from sipping at the swells of space. Your poem feels very still. What’s a scimitar?