The Morning of Her Passing

Portfolio Out of Nature

I cried with a banshee wind released
to run through elder trees
stripped bare by northern songs

the brown oak leaves
down bitter breeze blown
through footprint caves in snow

the girl I was touched fire
once, to wish on ghosts of flame
this frost burns the same

covet with the wind my limbs
frozen extend to grip the pallid sky
yet the geese migrate they fly

while life is lifted I’m left behind
to watch the wild winged escape
on the breath she took to die

What’s Left…


I wandered down the river’s edge, close as I could
to that ethereal dance. The chill from the water
soothed the heat of my skin. What if I let the river
wrap me up and spread me lengthwise along her
cool indifference? She’d send my desire to
the four corners of the earth while I took a good rest,
icy and hollow. How long before you knew
I’m gone?

No matter, Adam. I’m a whole-made woman of mud,
just as you are a mud-man, and we both know when the water
washes us clean, we won’t find peace buried inside. At our core
we’re nothing more than the dream we came from

The Moon

The Moon Image
Moon Lady
Judy Pfeifer, 2013

The Wind, he swelled
to meet The Moon
She came through the quiet night
Alive and awake
Plucked from ashen skin
while sleep fell over the world below

like dew
from leaves
under wind swept fingertips

The Moon, she lifted
like a vessel

like a poet

Hidden behind her silver veil
Tired and free
and lonesome
Losing ground
Gaining space
She traveled with her mysteries

Home again
to spin silver linings into clouds
As best she could
(She only has two hands)

No matter how she waxed
No matter how she waned

The Moon, she remembered
How The Wind whispered
Over her curves
Along her edges

He will be your undoing,
sang the stars
A Greek chorus
Ladylike voices
Oh, I know,
she replied
I want to be undone

Hidden behind her silver veil
Shy and frightened
and eager
through the dark night
She fell to him

Tender heart woven safe
behind her words

Will you come again?
she called
Will you be my lover?

But I am The Wind
I run free
Your arms will never hold me

The Moon, she said
If I wanted a rock
I’d call for a rock
Stable and hard
and unmoving
The weight of him to hold me
in the place I left him

I didn’t call for a rock tonight

I called for The Wind
His mind his only boundary
His north side bitter
with need so sharp
covered in quills
I can’t reach it

He shifts from the south
Warmth along my hidden valleys
and I forget his wanting
lost in my own

You sinner
You saint
I called for you
because I want The Wind

tonight. I can’t give you tomorrow

Who knows why?
He couldn’t refuse

The Wind, he swelled
to meet The Moon

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