the long night moon
is not alone
The long night moon.
She rises without wings.
Before the dark claims
it’s land she crouches
without leopard’s flexed flanks
and hides without frog’s camouflage
or octopus’s spilling-skin-color-talk
of whitening corals.
She sings without sound.
She dies without fear or longing or regret or doubt or pain.
Her depletion curves without sickle.
Her belly swells without sex.
She recites poetry by heart.
She rolls along without beetle’s antennae
to navigate the dung ball.
Before she was born she was nothing.
Nothing claimed her.
Nothing knew her.
Nothing was nothing
with and without her.
The long night moon
smiled without a mouth
and laughed until she was full.
Thank you, Victoria. It’s so nice to hear the long body of the moon through your images and beautiful words.
Exquisite, Victoria. Love the way you reimagine nature and get readers (like me!) thinking. Thank you for sharing