Ellen J Hutchinson

Daughter of the Moon

by Kit Rohrbach

Veins of quartz through storm smooth stones

flash phosphorescent in the twilight.

Driftwood branches, sailors’ bones,

like trade beads on a dance shirt, sewn

with tidal lines of foam that might

be veins of quartz through storm smooth stones.

I walk the beach. I am alone

with herring gulls’ uncaring flight,

with driftwood branches, sailors’ bones.

Lake water sighs in silver, groans

that deep rust red of hematite.

My veins are quartz. My storm smooth stones

a darkened heart the night disowns

to choose instead the glowing white

of driftwood branches, sailors’ bones.

Nokomis on her moonphase throne

reminds me there is odd delight

in veins of quartz through storm smooth stones,

in driftwood branches, sailors’ bones.