Poetry

The hesitant― 
dawn cracks, as the 
river of darkness squirms. 
 
The moon― 
was in last, to leave 
the howling bank. 
 
It looms large, a ― 
brain-dead future. I think 
I am forgetting my age. 
 
You must face the 
dying earth― sustained― 
on prayers only. 
 
This is the height 
of dilemma. Why― 
poems were hungry?