In 1999
she sent him her picture—
A moon
flush with harvest colours
and opulent flesh.
Repulsed by her abundance,
face closed, he turned away.
In 2001
she sent him her new look,
half size;
long shadows drawn in about her,
eyes question-coloured.
He was adrift on an iceberg,
returning no mail.
In 2004
she was a grain of sand,
polished
and indistinguishable on a shore
where driftwood came to rest.
In 2006
he looked for her—
she was bleached bone,
fine as silt
in the shank of a grave.
He longed for the offer
of harvest moon,
but she had broken into stars
and filled the sky.
Copyright © 2009, Rae Pater
Image Credit: mbgrigby, some rights reserved
Rae Pater has been published online and in print. She has three children and a cat named Gus. She spends far too much time in front of a computer, and her bio needs some serious work. Rae has completed a B.A in English literature and has recently qualified as an adult literacy tutor.