Tsuki no Tomo

Ghazal by Sahib Chandnani

A cold sweat painted yellow,
dawn breaks and day mutes my howling about the moon.

You grew fast, we grew fangs and fur and bared them still,
still hunted, still gather to howl with the moon.

A generous pour later, I’m bent over the coast,
heaving waves, stirring the tide, howling at the moon.

Touch is letting tooth find nape where there was only mane,
claws up, we raised the pack, taught them how to howl at the moon.

Let the moon be the only face I wait a month to see,
let the other 29 days be a procession, a howling for the moon.

¹ art by Pragna Gaddamedi (substack)

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