The moon is disappearing into the fields

The moon is disappearing into the fields as
war approaches the horizon. Morning crawls
from a crack and seeks a cave to hide. The crows
refuse to cede the morning to the doves.
Our shadows cling to us for warmth. How do we unfold
the shrouds that holds our souls? How
do we lift them from sleep like angels in the Last Judgement?
How do we not let the path walk off itself and be lost?
There are holes all over the earth that lead the way
to the underworld. There are fewer mountains for the gods to live.
It seems we already know we will sink into the ground
like our whispers. Despite sky burials and cliff coffins,
we mostly still place our dead in the earth,
and expect them to stay.

About the Author

Danielle Hanson is the author of Fraying Edge of Sky (Codhill Press Poetry Prize, 2018) and Ambushing Water (Brick Road Poetry Press, 2017). Her work has appeared in over 80 journals, won the Vi Gale Award from Hubbub, was Finalist for 2018 Georgia Author of the Year Award and was nominated for several Pushcarts and Best of the Nets. She is Poetry Editor for Doubleback Books, and is on the staff of the Atlanta Review. Her poetry has been the basis for visual art included in the exhibit EVERLASTING BLOOM at the Hambidge Center Art Gallery, and Haunting the Wrong House, a puppet show at the Center for Puppetry Arts. More about her at daniellejhanson.com.