Rachael Ikins – She and the moon
Moon swelled pink,
a lady slipper orchid,
heat.
When Her face cleared
leaves’ lace,
katydid cackling
raveled through grass carpet.
I lay in bed, feet on window sill.
Moon rolled in, past toes,
up my legs, thighs, tugging
at the center of me.
We stared into
each other’s eyes.
I held my breath, waited
for pain. It was pleasure.
Next morning, after moon ate the night,
Pale against sun’s blush,
my skin glows.
Burnished bronze,
Moon-burn.
Rachael Ikins is a 2016/18 Pushcart, 2013/18 CNY Book Award, 2018 Independent Book Award winner, & 2019 Vinnie Ream & Faulkner poetry finalist. She is author/illustrator of 9 books in multiple genres. She lives by a lake with her dogs, cats, salt water fish, a garden that feeds her through winter and riotous houseplants with a room of their own. Dragons fly by.
You can read more of Rachel’s writing at Writerraebeth’s Weblog
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