Sun Starved

Sunshine on lips which have starved for a drop of attention from forces impenetrably hot Holding the hand of invention's conception having cracked open the moon late last night Eating the shell was a task of elation Belly filled full with a thought born of mirrors The moon on the inside was frozen, congealed filled with inedible, silver holed dreams Buoyancy stretched out it's hand to deliver frost on the lips born to shake and to shiver Moon shell reflective and only the image of sun drops imbedded in all that's alive Now, on the day after lunar consumption, the yearning for solar shelled rejuvenation eclipses all thoughts bent on birth or starvation to lean toward the sun for new growth.