cw: flickering images
Melon Moon
for Idris, my light
One winter I remember he looked up and said:
‘the moon is a melon.’
We’d made a telescope out of used loo roll
to look for Father Christmas.
The Oak Moon on that longest night hung high
over Green Horse Mountain.
I followed his pointed finger into space,
remembered: ‘piel de sapo,’
the Spanish for his favourite fruit,
rind like the skin of a toad:
greenish yellow and white, darker
knobbly bits; slimy insides.
‘We should reach up into the sky and pluck
the melon from the night,’ I said.
‘Cut it into quarters to see if the light floods out,
plant the seeds to make baby moons.’
Eyes full of consternation: ‘don’t be silly mummy,
you can’t eat the moon.’
Eleanor Holmes is a mother-doctor-writer of prose & poetry who lives between Valencian Country & the UK. ‘Melon Moon’ is her first solo created Filmpoem. Widely published in print & on-line, her hybrid mini-book #Moth will be out with Ethelzine in April 2026. BlueSky: @eleanorholmes.bsky.social X: @eliot_north Instagram: @beniellie