The well

Breathing the Water (1984)

At sixteen I believed the moonlightcould change me if it would.I moved my headon the pillow, even moved my bedas the moon slowlycrossed the open lattice.

I wanted beauty, a dangerousgleam of steel, my body thinner,my pale face paler.I moonbatheddiligently, as others sunbathe.But the moon’s unsmiling starekept me awake.  Mornings,I was flushed and cross.It was on dark nights of deep sleepthat I dreamed the most, sunk in the well,and woke rested, and if not beautiful,filled with some other power.