Eric Ratcliffe Poems
The Maiden Of The Moon's Boat
Behind these yellow leaves I see the maiden of the moon's boat,
her smile straying, her light throat bent over the path of suffering.
Inside a convent of trees she rides, the Bride of my God,
floating a silver mile below her shining side,
as I, like these many branches, open my heart to her.
Barefoot on granite wait I,
who threw a silver javelin
into the shimmering land of whispers,
and watched the wraiths divide
as though a chime had ended Hallowe'en.
Somewhere beyond the dawn a mermaid died;
the sea sent her comb to me,
with a wisp of her poor green hair