July 11, 2014
The fleet Roman goddess of shadow, sleep and death, and mother of the Moirę sisters, who dole out human fate.
The mother of fate is only shadow.
Contrary to common belief, all shadow
belongs to nothing; she's a fluid single
being, like aspen. Doesn't yours sometimes
look soft and kind, and others, even
in the same conditions of light and place,
shifty and crow-like? She hops bodies
like branches. Today she nests with a shepherd,
his heavy hood soots her feathers black. Sunlight slants
down his back until his long, leaning spine spills her out
calligraphic over the velvet brown hills
shimmering with heat, the stirring sheep
and at the golden hour her stature gives
her pride, as if she were alive.
This poem will appear in the summer 2014 issue of Star*Line.
Posted by delire at July 11, 2014 01:32 PM