Muted Moon
Embedded in the muted Moon
curved claws spurned the crumbs,
my bones
my shadow
my longing for another
demanded the sacrifice 
of a soul: my soul
my own goal
and the voice
turned silent.

New Moon, never noon
no crumbs left
to follow; I caved
I … gave 
no crumbs
no crumbs
no way to find 

me. Me and my voice
sacrificed. 
Spurned.
Silenced. 
Scorned like corn 
kissed by Fusarium Verticillioides
on the night of a muted Moon

rising, and a voice silenced
on a rattling heap of bones
behind the shadow of a soul
– longing.