Worm Moon Reprise
By Mackenzie Sains
One day, soon, the catkins will reappear:
pendulous on pale aspen arms.
Then– the wind,
carrying pollination with her breath.
Then– waxy newborn leaves.
Today, bare branches cast late evening shadows and pebbles stretch
across the pavement. Light sinks in the west
as an earthy-pink worm
moon signals the robin’s return.
August
By Kiearra Medlin
We stumble into the moon.
The voodoo man slithers from the shadows
as our crestfallen table devours
beignet crumbs
and remnants of our conversations.
Gumbo fills my lungs like perfume,
neon lights bathe the homeless and dispossessed,
my pumps’ clack crack the pavement,
your eyes: soft and ready,
the stars dance to my heart.
My eyes
are heavy.
So is the night—
thick
with you.
Here, I am.
