Cactifur

Cacti Fur has published 3 of my poems

Selenelion Oregon

The moon in the valley mist shimmies upon the Manor roof:

a lady dancing in a veil, gauzy and seductive,
in the space between night and day.

She
weaves
in
and
out
of my Venetian blinds.
I am alive in her blue light.

My words
play
hide
and
seek
between the slats of light.
I am alone
and you are so far away.

“Can you see the moon?

Does the desert dress her differently?

Does your heat rise to cradle her body
suspended in liquid sky?

Do her shards of light
slice
your
body
sleeping ‘neath the Pinyon Pine?”

I would be that light,
catching my hair on needles:
a shadow dancing on your tent wall:
The light
shimmering
from my fingertips,
caressing,
your face in sleep.

We are impaled with light,
the luminous flux,
spanning the Mogollon Rim to the Rogue Valley,
between Northwest Willow and Ponderosa Pine,
basking in her light bars: the earthlight cold in our morning breath,
inhaling air glow in the flutter of REM sleep.

She
sets
with
a
sigh,
a whisper of movement across your face,
gliding
down.
behind tall mountains.

In that moment:
Selenelion.
You and me on a horizontal eclipse.
A refraction of light fading to daylight
and then gone.
I am alone
and you
are
so
far
away.

 

 

 

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Published by: Basicallybarb

Barbara A Meier is a poet, teacher, and mother, trying to write her way out of Kansas, anxiety and depression. Instead of indulging in feeling like garbage, trash, or rubbish, she chooses to examine the debris of her life by writing poems about it. After all as a forgiven, child of God, simultaneously saint and sinner, she is loved and cherished by her God.

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