The new moon keeps its own counsel, a dark bowl turned over the sky. In that sealed hour the water learns to hold whatever sweetness you pour into it.
This bath scours nothing away; it steeps you like petals in warm oil until you carry the scent of something worth the loving. To sink into it is to make of your own body an offering — luminous, honeyed, and open to being found.
The Working
- On the night the moon shows no face, draw a bath warm as blood and salt the water as you would season bread.
- Loose a handful of rose and a little crushed herb across the surface, then pour in milk until the water clouds like a pearl.
- Light a single candle at the foot of the tub and let it be the only moon in the room.
- Anoint your breastbone and both wrists with a drop of oil before you enter, sealing the sweetness to your pulse.
- Sink to the throat and lie still, speaking the incantation up into the rising steam.
- Rise without rinsing, and let yourself dry by candlelight so the water’s memory stays upon your skin.
The Incantation
Dark moon, keep my secret sweet,
steep me slow in rose and cream;
salt to set it, oil to seal,
milk to make my body gleam.
Let the one who is to come
catch this scent as in a dream,
and lean, and stay, and call it home —
sweeter than they dared to dream.
Snuff the candle between wet fingers and let the dark moon hold what you have made. The sweetness sets as you sleep and rises with you, unseen, to draw the beloved near.