moon as a silkworm
by Christine A. MacKenzie
moon as a silkworm: holed black leaf in the daylight
snapped, and folded, into mother’s weak hand –
moon as a silkworm: shining clusters, labial folds
cracked, spilling, out of the skull like an egg –
moon as a silkworm: bled-fur moth, with blood-stain scales stacking across
the abdomen, shedding luminously over thorned bark –
moon as a silkworm: rock and a worm, folded into mother’s hand, and with their
slimes and roughness,
and thinking of the hand-dug pond, father
cutting, and cutting, the ground, laboring that summer,
then waiting for the snowmelt
trickling,
filling, cracks knitting with lily roots and reed roots and
and pulsing beetles
and leeches, nymphs, fly eggs, thrilling her
searching hands, and flimsy play-nets, as a girl –
moon as a silkworm: mommy, look: pill bug crawling the lines of her palm; the roads
of her hand;
and the stars smelling of icy leaves, gray mud, or baby skin,
then falling away –
About the Author