The Abduction of Uncle Moseley

He shrinks to a hush
below purple sky – this air,
soft and beckoning,

carries a mute voice
that teethes at the brain, killing
the pull of his son’s

image. Now two eyes,
paled and tearing, watch the speck
of light grow greater

than the stars. His arms
raise to the light like a babe
grasping for papa.