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Issue 19

The Moon XVIII

Leah Mueller

Issue No. 19 • Spring 2018

 

I believed
everything you told me.
Your fish mouth moved incessantly,
drew me inside its belly.

Dragged underwater
by strong currents,
my arms were seaweed, yours
barnacles. Now I am

stuck under the
pier, gasping. The tide advances,
then retreats, its pull
ordained by the Moon.