Monday, February 22, 2010

Moon Poem

I've been so low and dissolved, waiting for the latent to surge...feeling downright lunar.

My moon poem:

Over her
ancient face
of milk light
and rime,
shadows in flux
pulse time
and trace
the estuary shallows
pushed in
from the deep.

Small child
she dogs
sees a boat
glow above
the tree,
the weight
of gravity.
Hide and seeking

in thickets,
unraveling tangled
willow switches,
she plays out
the game,
riding dark waves
in a storied wind.

astride the night,
to burgeon
and again.

Shining through
the wax and melt
of millenniums,
she heard
the first voices
intuit her whisper
rippled over
the surface,
a pull to

She has spoken
through waters
and risen saps,
through shoots
and lunacy.
Wizened thin
to a sickle
or dissolved
into black,
her touch
a tug of fingers
felt upon the weft
and root.

Blown full
in atmospheres
of dusk,
she stirs the
heart cup
to a blood spiral
and eggs break
into flower.
Her spell is
wide cast,
a slip silver ocean,
to catch fast
the sensitive
and hold still
of mirrored
change in
her silent ring
of snake song.

Solar plate etching "Iowa Moonlight" by Nancy Lindsay.

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