Flowers That Open in Moonlight
‘Moving between two worlds is difficult’
The crow came first.
Not as a warning,
but as a witness.
It sat in the crook of the ash tree,
older than memory,
limbs broken open from storms I don’t recall.
Its beak glinted
like the edge of a blade
a memory of forgotten steel.
The moon
was so bright it hurt.
I turned my face
but it followed.
Even the leaves
could not hide me.
That was when I saw him,
walking toward me
through the dark,
shadows followed him
but did not let him go.
He had the posture of someone
who had loved me once,
or meant to.
His face stayed hidden.
What I saw was how the earth accepted him,
each step without resistance.
I leave bruises where I walk.
Some flowers
only bloom in the moonlight.
I have learned their names
by listening,
not asking.
I did not reach for him.
I have done that before.
The crow lifts its wings.
The tree creaks open.
The moon left a mark on the air between us,
and it never faded.
©Gesso Cocteau
art and poetry
For the flowers that bloom only in the moonlight
