Thursday, October 21, 2021

And She Floated Away

Last night my sheep ate the moon.

No, really.

The moon was just cresting

over the field where she was grazing

and she stretched out her neck

and swallowed it whole.

Suddenly, the night was pitch black

and she was bleating moonbeams.

I stared at my empty hands—

I wanted to be refracted light too.

 

I bet the moon is made of

cream of tartar—

the same chemical breakdown, I mean.

That makes good sense.

But just a gigantic ball of it,

rather than a teaspoon

in a batch of sugar cookies.

 

But the night air was sweet in its own way—

delicious even.

And the stars continued to shine—

fearlessly.

Her wool started to glow,

pin pricks of light emitting

from the tip of each strand,

Her hooves turned translucent white

like four little lanterns

and over the meadow—

she began to rise.

No comments:

Post a Comment