Scratch

 
To scratch an itch each time the moon is full,
Is evidence, my feet in sinking sand.
And when I walk beneath the arctic pull,
The odds, I’ll sleep the night right where I stand.

The nature of myself of what I know,
To scratch an itch each time the moon is full.
Like trodding down a coast of burn and shoal,
Collecting tiny crabs for making wool.

I know with crabs there’s better things to mull;
Crab cakes with shrimp, and casserole with slaw.
To scratch an itch each time the moon is full,
I close my eyes to hear its siren call.

But when it comes to itch, what I love most
Both in the culling day, and night time’s lull,
Is when a lover’s tidal urge can boast
To scratch an itch each time the moon is full.




NaPoGloPoWriMo 2019