The night becomes
a black snake that swallows
the cosmic egg whole.
We hold our breath,
three minutes more.
The black sky, Nephthys,
Nyx, more by other names
the holy women of night
become pregnant in the lost light.
We wait for the birth pains
to begin. We wait for the life
to break through. We wait.
Nothing moves.
Then the snake sheds its skin:
the moon and sun play dead no longer
the sky is full of the lost stars
a cosmology new and old, come to greet us
once again. A family reunion on the shores.
The snake eats its tail at both ends.
We part knowing, we will meet again.
In another time, in the same place
the snake will return in darkness
but we will complete the sacred rite
and welcome one another to daylight.

[Eve Morton is a writer living in Ontario, Canada. She teaches university and college classes on media studies, academic writing, and genre literature, among other topics. Find more info on authormorton.wordpress.com.]