under winter moon
trust your night eyes, child.
there will be no comfort here
no fires around which to gather and dance.
we are alone.
and we lavish crimson blood on fresh snow.
our tread falls softer,
and we fold our bodies down to bow and kiss the earth with the strange tongues of our mothers,
wyched words from her womb only our bellies understand.
as I wake,
I know I am alone.
I look up to see the stars have moved and spun the heavens on their backs.
winter has killed the leaves and the trees have drawn their spirits in
inside their core,
leaving the heavens
the moonlight stark and uncompromising.
the winter hag has stripped me
I stare back at my own reflection
that hangs from every tree,
until she rasps that she is done with me,
that I have cut away the rags of comfort
and my outline,
I see those long fingers of the earth stretched toward the stars
and head for home,
awake in the cold,
of who I am.