Hemiceratoides hieroglyphica

Beneath the brackish
dome of night
s|he sates an
unusual thirst.

S|he stalks the roosts
of the unwitting
and tastes greedily
of their tears.

S|he visits me
in a space
of restless 

The proboscis gouges
my lacrimal gland
like a lepidopterist
pinning wings

Draining my cache
of anguish before
s|he departs for
another hydrated cornea.

Now when my eyes
strain and fail
to leak their
liquids of catharsis,

I wonder if
s|he’s out there

crying for me.