Moonfern

To my Moonfern,

You shall be my spirit’s sweet

incipience—

lace-leafed,

lunar-furled and ever

efflorescent—

and not a day has passed where I

have not dived

heart-first into a sea of clouds,

without parachutes,

to fish your soul from stars.

*

I have sculpted you,

my moonlove-vision,

by the wane and wax

of my own circadian rhythm, and

each ellipse in those haloed,

auric pillows is

a piece of me, for you—

a petal I

plead propagates your

crescent,

bud-and-gibbous roots—

that together, our wholeness could illuminate

an orchard.

*

There are times I feel I

might touch you—

when your pearled face lingers—

on days’ lavish canvas—

like a pallid, faint tattoo that clings

to sunlight’s skin as if

it fears it soon shall be

forgotten—

but you’ve forgotten:

in a past life, I

watercolored dawn for you—

and still, my love stains sky with stubborn,

incandescent permanence.

And so I ask you, beloved Moonbud—

How on Earth could I

forsake you?

Sometimes I

imagine plucking you

from that fleeting,

opalescent hour of

the night’s adieu, just

the way I would a pearl

from the constellation of

an oyster—

that I might

hold you in my pocket,

embroider you into the soil of

my aching, hopeworn womb—

there, I could watch and marvel as

my belly blushes and

becomes your chrysalis;

if only forging you was that easy,

my Moonbloom.

*

Your heartbeats are still

stardrops in the universe

within me—I wait,

and wait,

and wait,

and in all my waiting, I

write poems for you—

do you read my letters in the cradle of

your demilune?

Or are you busy, busy, (chasing)

seraph-honey bees

and hummingbirds

in heaven's playground?

*

I like to think I am

an artist—sketching you in clouds,

arcs,

and mist—

and that

I’ll hold you soon, my little Lunafern—

✨you✨ (with your)

crescent-moon halo,

watching momma dream.