She stretched her fingers on the globe
that was her body now.
She could feel the slow rotation,
the pull of the moon.
"Mother," she whispered.
That is what he would call her.
That would be her name.
She was alone with him
under the stars of September, waiting
for the music to change
from night to the dawn
wakes everything up.
She waited, ears keen, shoulders
Her body stretched and
round like a drum. She listened.
-- Andrea Wiser
Originally published by L D Books, used with permission.