Ohhhh I love the creepiness of this poem, especially this line: "drink broth from the bones of masters’ feasts. " Good job!

Nice, morbid and deep. I really like the last three lines, nice ending! :)

The imagery and word choices in this poem are downright outstanding. I reread this several times so I could savor each line; really great job.

At first I thought moonmilk was your own neologism and got this great image of some type of distilled moonbeam. After a google I see it has a real geological term as well, and now the two images are intertwining really nicely. Also love this idea of being trapped between two solstices, caught in a sort of no man's land, not belonging and scraping together their own existence from those who do belong (like having to make your own soup from the scraps of everyone else's feast).

What I love most about this is the percussive rhythm that accompanies it. The words used produce a certain degree of cadence as you read. I think it truly lends a hand to the mood and tone of the poem. Brilliant diction.

There's so much imagery, and I love the morbid aspects of it. You have such great diction, and the poem flowed in this choppy, downstream way. A really captivating piece!

Beautifully brooding and the rhythm makes it a fun read. Well done!