Luna, Seal, Bear, Turtle

Luna, Seal, Bear, Turtle

You are luna moth.  Instar, between, you inhabit this shape just long enough to find your way to the next, shed what you don’t need, leave it behind.

You are seal.  You pop your head above the waves to cock an eye at us, flip and dive into a sea of fickle disappearance.

You are bear in hibernation.  Groggy with sleep, one day ravenous, immobile the next; you snap and snarl when I try to rouse you.

You are turtle.  You withdraw deep inside your shell, pull up the hatches, shut us out, make safe, make home.

I keep waiting for you to spin your silken cocoon, construct the architecture of lime green canopy with painted eyes, emerge all wet and breathless, pump blood into the sails of elegant wings.

I keep my eye on the dark surface of your private salt sea, catch your whiskers above the surface, your bright brown eyes winking, laughing at me, your sleek black head rising up.

I keep guard over the entrance to your cave, prepare food for your huge hunger, mind your teeth when sleep savages you, admire that desire to live inside dream.

I keep watch outside your shell, hold you in my palm, stroke the perfect plates, sharp ridge of your back, smooth ivory of your belly.  I call your name in a language older than time.  Come out, come out.

          - Deborah Miranda