As a balmy night falls sugar-sweet
overhead, it brings with it stars and
the echoing shimmer of candles alight
in some goddess-chamber
where Selene is dancing barefoot,
her white arms warm with circlets of gold,
feet dusky-quick under whispering pink
clouds, satin-soft and dewdrop-sheer,
silky visions of the sunrise she begged for
until her sister relented and gave up her dress
for one time, and one time only:
brilliant petticoats blushing peach yellow,
tiny blossoms and succulent flowers
embroidered one by one like a million stars,
the pastel backdrop of a sky awakening
to the first touch of a rosy-fingered artist
admiring a new canvas, breathing into it
the golden rosebud warmth of dawn.

Selene is resplendent within it,
polishing her cheeks in a silver mirror,
brightening her lips with stardust
as her sister stands watch nearby
wrapped in a dull night shroud
(pure black cold linen, no stars, no jewels)
smiling as Selene sets out
across a still earth, heart hot in her throat,
gold hems trailing untidily behind her:

all this fuss for merely a mortal,
some boy who’s waiting in a plush valley somewhere,
probably half-asleep, too high on his luck
of having had a goddess fall in love with him.

But Dawn simply sits at home, waiting up,
knowing well that pearly tears will adorn
her finest dress in the morning,
and she will be there with patient kisses
as her sister falls back again into
her waiting arms.

---

Clarabelle Miray Fields is a Rhysling-nominated, award-winning speculative writer from Boulder, Colorado, whose work has appeared in Corvid Queen, Circe’s Cauldron, the 2021 Rhysling Anthology, and elsewhere. She often writes about ancient myth, scifi, feminism, and everywhere in-between. Currently, she serves as editor for Carmina Magazine, a publication dedicated to modern mythmaking. Find out more at https://clarabellefields.com or @cfieldswriting on Instagram. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys being active outside and drinking dark coffee.