Moon Crop

by Alexandra Seidel


Will you plant water
and carry the moon to harvest?

Wasted time is always shorter in
our memory, and memory
is a Hanged Man's raven
too hungry for scraps, a beak
to cup the moon


Should I trap stormclouds in a net
and whisper thunder from my fingertips?

Ophelia knew
that girls were made for drowning
We breathe our souls into the water
saturated soil of our screaming
At night the river holds us
like a raven holds the moon


When you tend a crop that never blooms
what shall be your bread, and what your wine?

The horizon is a rope that has bound many
A sleep-brought dusting of dark feathers,
and you can smell the rain in the air,
smell it from the deepness of the soil;
she was pale as night's sun
goes the story; a liar, our raven sings

Alexandra Seidel writes poems and stories of things born from imagination and dreams. Some of her work can be found in Ideomancer, Mythic Delirium, Strange Horizons, and elsewhere. If you are so inclined you can follow Alexa on Twitter (@Alexa_Seidel) or read her blog.

When asked what kind of mask would choose her, Alexa replied as follows: "it would have to be a trickster thing, a mercurial thing, something with bells and a hidden smile."

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