The Hunters

Under shelf of shadow
they follow the moon,
bloodless, howling
and, although damaged
the only radiance
worth regard,
picking at shells
already raped and
battered beyond use
by ordinary tide,
sifting through
sediment for prey,
until light runs freely
from sky, dissipating lust
into cosmic afterthought
freed, finally
from the encumbrance
of their appetite.