Moontime

as her cradle in the moon
  rocks gently in the pull
     of earth's tides

she is washed
  by salty waves
initiated with her
  first drops of blood
    spilled into
      a tulip's depths
its center
      forever
  dyed crimson

elder women's hands
  hold her
lifting her from
    the cradle grown too small

they touch
  under her arms
     stroke her legs
 press her pubic mound
all her places
   of newly sprouting hair

giggling young women
  braid her wavy brown hair
decorating it with flowers
   as they dance around her

she is drawn forward
  pulled by eager hands
to sit upon
    the Goddess throne

       kasha