Now shadows write longhand 
On the inky diaphragm of night 
Hardened cracked turned to powder 
Under the grey-black buffalo of the moon 
and the stars' bitterfruit 

Ground to bitterest nose 
is the face in my palms 
A hot pellet of gall 

Skin hangs like a pirate flag 
Stomach head feet hurt 
Belligerent rib bone quake 

Smitten, surfaced with litter 
Night is no poultice 
Its Snout imposes in my ear 

and the untidy tear sleep, 
It cracks too loud to quell