The sickle moon fell from the sky,
having lost its lustre,
hurtled through clouds and trees,
and hit Earth with a clang –
not a bang.
It caught a fecund woman’s eye;
claiming it before a sister,
she got down on her knees
and, feeling no disgrace,
bound it to her face.
That led to her demise:
surrounded by a cluster
of elders suspecting metamorphosis
into a beetle without a carapace,
she begged in vain for grace.
Kim M. Russell, 29th May 2018
My response to Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Photo Challenge #216