"The Moon Wakes in Parts"
dust devil moon *new moon *
is blue shadowed,
even after the night
has swallowed it
whole.
Lavender and witch
hazel scent the fields
and creep towards the river bed.
toe moon *waxing crescent*
like a flap of skin,
weightless in a bowl
of sky.
These nights her dreams are full;
she divides herself,
into fire, into ice.
Only when thunder carves
the sky and red seeps
like melted wax to fill the wound
will she wake.
rag bag moon *waxing gibbous*
grown fat with moonstone
and white flowers.
Love songs permeate the dark.
He rummages inside deep tidal
pools of self; pulls out tin stars
that shimmer like star fish
through the sand.
He writes her name in footprints.
hunters moon *October full moon*
Evenings that shiver
with its own blue,
that burns
itself into the fields
of the farmhouse.
This night wanders wolf crazy
with hunger,
whilst on the farmers table:
a platter of meat
and rough potatoes.
A scattering of winter berries.
Plenty enough for two.
© 2005 Lisa Megraw
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