I walked out of the dark
into the light I fell:
through branches of blue painted trees,
the air like ice against my skin, the moon’s face
a mirror into which I climbed,
descending past the sky and the angels
praising the handmaid of the Lord,
past the oligarchs of heaven who watched
my feet pad heavily against the fir blanket beneath.
She panted beside me, her teeth reflecting
the moon’s light, her fur knit with twigs and leaves.
Up to the heavens I stared at the gods standing beneath me
as they guarded their fire, their arms folded tight.
I stared as she, in her russet, sidled next to me,
Rubbing my leg and pleading
For silence and a place to rest her head.