Ink

Dance in the shadow of moonlight

While your shoes crush the glass on the floor

And make sharp glitter on the linoleum

Grab onto hope and stick it in the oven

Then spread it on a roast for Thanksgiving

Let your brain turn into a pool of ink

And pour it all out into the sink

And dip your hands in it and paint the walls

Ruin the linens and the doors and the halls

Paint your neck and your eyes

And write love letters to boys

Who will read them and keep them in boxes under the bed

So they can sleep over hopes and dreams.

Stick a knife in a pillow and watch the feathers burst out

But do all this in silence

So they won’t find out.

Loophole

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To The Moon

I love you to the moon and back, I know because I went there.

I shot myself into the stratosphere because they said on the moon there was magic dust that would make me all better.

The moon is 384,400 miles away from the earth, so it took me a long time, but you’ve never been anywhere so quiet.

There’s no day or night, but I could see the sun right in front of me spewing hot lava into space.

I went to the moon and I figured it out, all of it, got all whole and fixed and healed and unafraid.

The world is so small from all the way up there, beautiful and blue and silent.

I thought about you being so far away, and I wondered if you thought about me.

I love you to the moon and back, and I came all the way back here with moon dust on my boots and my whole heart to give.

I came all the way back, all the way whole, and you said you missed me but you didn’t think I’d be that long. I could see the marks on your hand from someone else holding it, the deep etching of happy and warm.

I told you I loved you to the moon and back, and that’s what I answered when you asked me what took so long.

Neven Krcmarek

Carve

The Box Outside The Window

Outside the window there sits a box. It has never been opened. It has never left the spot by the front porch, even though the weather has come and gone. It is made of a strong material, something that would appear to last the test of time, or maybe it’s something magical, either way, it has not moved since it was placed there by a man in a grey uniform like so many men in grey uniforms do every day. Continue reading “The Box Outside The Window”