byJoy Harjo
- Last night she called and told me
about the moon over San Francisco Bay.
Here in Albuquerque it is mirrored
in a cool, dark Sandia sky.
The reflection is within all of us.
Orange, and almost the harvest
moon. Wind and the chill of the colder
months coming on. The children and I
watched it, crossing San Pedro and Central
coming up from the state fair.
Wind blowing my hair was caught
in my face. I was fearful of traffic,
trying to keep my steps and the moon was east,
out of any skin that was covering her. Naked.
Such beauty.
- Look.
We are alive. The woman of the moon looking
at us, and we looking at her, acknowledging
each other.
© 1983 Joy Harjo. She Had Some Horses,
Thunder's Mouth Press.
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