Poems for the Flower Moon
Dandelion Scribes presents a selection of 16 poems to celebrate the rise of the full Flower Moon on May 23, 2024. Join these poets who seek out the moon for wisdom & inspiration– and perhaps write a little something of your own to share with us in June! Featuring:
Cheyanne Leonardo, @dithyrambler
Kait Quinn, @kaitquinnpoetry
Laura A. Clift, @l.a.clift
R. Clift, @r.cliftpoetry
Stephani Duff, @_stephduff
Abbie Duncan
Amber Sparks, @asparkspoetry
Cari Lynne King, @inkstainedmemoirs
Dr. Deb
Frances Denise, @francesdenisepoetry
ANON.
Sharon Leonardo
LIFE
i dream of yellow
an owl by the window
my moon blossoms
out
early like
the happy face of a dandelion
and dog howls, harvesting
dawn as if it sounded
morning–
listen.
you must live always
like life
that is to say
between.
–Cheyanne Leonardo
⚘
WITHOUT
after Carrie George's “Without Blue"
If for once, I could write
without locking loose lips
to salty rims, I might
coax crocus
from shallow grave,
find moon at my backdoor,
waiting
to just listen to me.
–Kait Quinn
⚘
“The best friendships are constant
like the moon,” she said.
“But the moon isn’t always the same.”
“Exactly. It goes through phases.
Sometimes so bright that’s all you see,
sometimes completely gone–
usually somewhere in between–
but always, undoubtedly, there.”
–Laura A. Clift
⚘
YOU CANNOT SEE THE MOON IN STARDEW
You cannot see the moon in Stardew, so
let me describe it to you, that you may
carry her as a feeling. Imagine
an orb: aquamarine from the mine, orange
from the orchard, apricot dropped by fruit
bats in the farm cave. So curved, you can hold
her in your palm's cup. Imagine white,
imagine silver and storm cloud: quartz, stone,
iron ore refined into burnished bars.
Sometimes she is a cherry bomb: outburst
of copper, frozen tear, GOLD. Imagine
the firefly's bulb, a glow ring swathing you
in honey aura. A ribcage ground to
ash—soft as white hare, dry as desert sand.
–Kait Quinn
⚘
Now I understand the story
of the sun and the moon –
two lovers that have been
longing for each other
since the beginning of time
but can never be together.
For you are the sun,
I am the moon,
and we will chase each other
around the globe
for the rest of our lives
all while knowing
deep down inside our bones
we were only ever meant
to be alone.
–R. Clift
⚘
THINGS THE MOON TOLD ME
There’s not really a man up here– only artifacts of his time in my orbit.
I move entire bodies of water with my existence– it’s a power play most don’t grow used to, so he left. Just a shoe print and a fishing pole in memoriam.
There is no reason for jealousy. The sun rises each day, dons oranges and yellows, she’s always dressed in vibrancy.
I, mysterious – dressed up or dressed down – have no need to want to be like her… she rises and falls, I wax and I wane.
We, two undeniable forces, need not compete. We guide all the same.
I know you see me early in the morning, faint as dawn blows kisses across cornfields and oceans, whispering awake the humans.
Say hi next time.
Point me out to the children you love. Let us bid each other farewell as your day commences.
There’s not really a man up here–
only the sinew and muscle required after he took his leave, cut me to the bone.
Still, I rise.
This is how we glow.
–Stephani Duff
⚘
ON THE MOON I AM SO BRAVE
On the moon I am a ghost, always wearing
your bed sheets like a mausoleum. I leave
my tourmaline and thunderstorm to haunt you.
On the moon I fingernail carve
your swooped nose, your cactus jawline,
buoyant freckle in dust like a cheap
scalpel hacks at a pumpkin. My craft hours keep
your new lover up at night. On the moon I reap harvests
of nightmares from the vampire's velvet
mouth. Careful where you scythe; there's gothic
in my roots, cryptic tentacles practiced at making
graveyards of ships. Stay—drink my raven ballad;
gorge on hunter's cider and marigold rum.
On the moon I spit remnants of redolent ink
and smear them into a poem, tormented and ivy
overgrown as grand abandoned homes
where chandeliers shiver, ceilings weep,
pipes groan with the dull weight
of vacancy; even the walls miss the ricochet
of laughter. On the moon I am so brave, I dig
my own grave, sow my waste of a body
in silver loam. On the moon I am no longer
human; a burial is a grounding; Earth,
and you, unfathomable.
–Kait Quinn
⚘
MY PRINCE
The grass smiles at the gentle caress of my gown as the wind helps it dance to its gentle breeze. A smile almost appears upon my lips. The lifeless, chilled windows of the castle stare back at me, but they do not smile. I fear the spirits have nowhere to rest; it is the harsh reality of the afterlife that they must remain stuck in a timeless loop of crisp and stone walls. My lover haunts himself by his conscious deeds. He must have a soul, or else his dagger wouldn’t be adorned with the tears that fall from his eyes of melancholy and charcoal. The creatures running along the depths of the ghastly catacombs find a home in the pit of his heart. The crows and the thorns break themselves just to embrace the soft touch of my lover’s devotion—the voices of what once was embed themselves into the wrinkles of his heart. Guilt and the piercing abandonment of triumph root themselves in all the ways my darling tries to survive.
On the altar of our home, remnants of a woeful priest’s words lie in the air, and I find myself waiting for a truth to be discovered in the heart of their deception. The holy water that burned into the forehead of my lone prince never truly left his skin, and when my lips meet the crease between his neck and his jaw, teardrops fall, and they are far from holy. His king tortures him, and when I ask him if he will ever forgive his father, he only lifts a corner of his chapped lips and stares into the polish of marble and fire, and from the torment of his gaze, I never have to question any further.
I once peered upon the skin of his statues, I kissed their lips and held the biting cold of Carrara marble, calling upon the life contained in the stony details of David and Venus. They were living but not breathing, and my prince cried for their damnation, always leaving and collapsing into himself in a fit of doom.
My mother once laid upon me all the steps to fixing a broken man. She gave the reasons for their torment and offered solutions and delicacies to cure their cries. She coached me to seek validation in the way he would praise me for my efforts to soothe his unrest. I listened and obeyed, but when the darkness fell on the land, and the moon called me by my name, I was far darker than the creatures in the catacombs.
They mourn for the tortured prince but have not a clue he is already slain.
–Abbie Duncan
⚘
Moon drunk mermaid,
serenading with siren song
luring in lustful lads
with lunar lullabies,
your gravity pulls the tides
closer to shore than the sun.
Waxing and waning melodies,
ecliptic they’re encircling,
captivated as you sing,
oblivious to your dark side
and the jagged rocks beneath.
–Amber Sparks
⚘
POWER
the sea sparkles in stillness –
her only breath: a long exhale
for you are no moon.
you have no power here
no gravity in your grip
no command of tides that rise
and fall.
when i spoke of your armor i
forgot to mention
the sword
you held out of sight
behind our backs.
until the blood pooled
and we stood as warriors
i never knew
the wound, never knew
your serpent smile –
how you flash your fangs
and spill your venom, slither
this way and that
as if you willed that we
were blind.
love only allows so many lies
to sneak by – braiding
belly to belly, bending the length
of its shadow shape –
until it snaps! sickness
breaks the bind in half,
dissolves the weapon.
and the ocean
laughs.
–Cheyanne Leonardo
⚘
CELESTIAL ELIXIR
The moon
the sky
the paintings in the clouds
fill my lungs with life
How extraordinary to think
every soul on earth
shares the same sky
We are all connected
by brushstrokes and
luminescence
May the gentle gleam of moonlight
and the magic of the stars
remind us of our humanity
and heal the broken connection
–Cari Lynne King
⚘
MOON
Moon of wonder
Womb of time
Heal the world
In your light sublime
Illuminate the best
Cast away the rest
Forever shine
Into this soul of mine
–Dr. Deb
⚘
Not a wishing star
Yet many tie their hopes to you from afar
Your fullness, especially
Pulls and inspires their hearts
Beyond a satellite that lights the wild
I don’t really know who or what you are
But like a compass you are present in our story
Behind the clouds or otherwise
I may as well bask in your glory
–Frances Denise
⚘
MOON, FULL, TRUE
1978, Kentucky, Softball Game.
Small town. Local fame.
Game ends. Not lame. Not tame.
Drive home. Not dark.
Idea. Spark. Not park.
“Moon” friends, while drive car.
1974 Oldsmobile Station Wagon.
Simulated woodgrain vinyl sides.
Set Cruise Control at 60 mph.
Hang “Full Moon” out window.
Remembered by friends to this day.
–ANON.
⚘
THE CHRISTENING
Presented to the moon,
the proud momma proclaiming
to the stars and all the sky
the culmination of her life force.
Look at my child as I dedicate her
to the universe!
Accept her as a new container
to carry the wisdom she collects
along her path.
–Sharon Leonardo
⚘
I FEEL SEXY IN ANYTHING, EVEN A BODY BAG
after Sharon Needles from RuPaul's Drag Race
Zipped in my onyx & indigo landscape
of melancholy, already bistering
at the edges. My drug of choice is writing
myself into a casket. My heart might need
stitches, but it's how I stay tender. I switch
from a black dress to blue, back to black,
but it's all the same in the salted siren
shallows of my chest. I loved myself to the
moon & never came back.
–Kait Quinn
Meet the May Moon Queen
Kait Quinn
Kait Quinn (she/her) was born with salt in her wounds. She flushes the sting of living by writing poetry. She is the author of four poetry collections, and her work appears in Anti-Heroin Chic, Reed Magazine, Slippery Elm, Watershed Review, and elsewhere. She received first place in the 2022 John Calvin Rezmerski Memorial Grand Prize. Kait is an Editorial Associate at Yellow Arrow Publishing and a poetry reader for Black Fox Literary Magazine. She enjoys cats, repetition, coffee shops, tattoos, and vegan breakfast. Kait lives in Minneapolis with her partner and their very polite Aussie mix, Jesse. Find her at kaitquinn.com.
A note from the editor: Kait Quinn is a stunning poet who blends vulnerability & fierceness like no other! She will take you through worlds of heartbreak and empowerment, from boneyards to blooming gardens, across quiet streams and stirring oceans– all while maintaining a poetic precision that is truly her own. She is a poet shining in the fullness of her power, just like the flower moon! We are so honored to feature a few of her magnificent moon poems. To read more of her work, follow her on instagram @kaitquinnpoetry.
𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘
Publication Notes
Poem by R. Clift, “Now I understand the story…” originally published in her book to feel anything at all, June 18, 2019.
Poem by Sharon Leonardo, “The Christening” originally published in Hometown Poems: A South Fork Country Anthology of Poetry, June 23, 2023.
Visit our submissions page to send in your poems ⚘
With endless love & gratitude,
