Some eggs are ripened by the moon
not by the mother's feathered body-heat
not by a pyre of spices and silk
not by the dung-heap where the cockatrice matures.
Some eggs hatch to a different tune
a bird of glass with alabaster feet
whiter than clouds and strong as spider-milk
migrant from unimagined celestial shores.
Some eggs are ripened by the moon.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Moon Eggs
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3 comments:
Oh, that's marvelous.
What a wonderful piece. Truly. I love it.
I like the idea and I think you almost pull it off. I think the line "Some eggs hatch to a different tune" is a bit out of place. You might want to have a wee rethink.
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