Fantasy poetry poem Eating the Moon

Winter Picnic

By R. K. Duncan
Dec 27, 2019 · 151 words · 1 minute

Gazebo in the snow

Photo by William DeHoogh via Unsplash.

From the author: A poem about death and after.


 I’ll bring you a wish and shiver.

You can pay with a dream and kiss

For a cup that will never run over,

Filled with starlight that spied on our tryst

 

Hunt the moon through high mountain forest,

Through the needles and ice and the fog.

She will hide in the most sharp-edged valley.

You can track her with coal-dust fed dogs.

 

Bring me those silver-sheened haunches

To burn on my looking-glass grill.

I will season with salt-tears and lemon

And feed you the flesh of your kill

 

Be careful, my warm-blooded lover.

Your lips might stick there if you stay

Pressed just to the edge of my breastbone,

Where you might hear a heartbeat someday.

 

But don’t cry my sharp-nailed companion.

I will sing you farewell on the wind,

And I’ll come back to hold in due season,

When blood on the snow makes you grin.

This story originally appeared in Kaliedotrope.


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R. K. Duncan

Fantasy with darkness and a sharp edge of hope.