Page:The Pot of Earth.pdf/25

 I am afraid of the moon. I am afraid of the moon still.

They played at weddings, she and her little sister. She had a mother doll made of a pine cone With pebble eyes and they found a husk of corn In the leaves over the rose roots. They were married At four in the garden and when the tide turned The bridegroom was dead and she made a boat of shingles With a black sail and set him on the sea Mourning. She watched him till the sky was grey