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The moon is so full and round I could pluck it from the air with my teeth.

The night is stretched across the frame of the sky like a canvas

the lights pricking through.

I am whole

in the moonlight

abandoned but whole, and full, and drenched with the perfumes of summer nights and rose-hush.

Once,

you fed me plums

and ran your hands over my sticky heart; you crushed me

with your lips and I used to curl my fingers

through your chain-linked hair,

imagining a hundred thousand different futures including you.

Now, alone,

I walk those paths myself

acid-dipped, and sky-tempered, storm-bathed and singing

through moon-filled teeth

testing each new path that has bloomed before me.



Hester J. Rook is a Rhysling Award and Australian Shadows Award shortlisted poet and co-editor of Twisted Moon Magazine.  They are often found salt-scrunched on beaches, reading arcane tales and losing the moon in mugs of tea. Find Hester on Twitter @hesterjrook and read more poems and fiction at hesterjrook.com.
Current Issue
30 Jun 2020

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