the crescent moon
cut deep this month. she died the day
the waxing crescent swung low
through the cedars.
i must have grieved through the half moon
i don't remember.
mourning erases memory, sweeps it into clouds.
she lives in my dreams
or whenever my eyes are closed.
tonight the moon is full
let it bring her back to me.
every new thing i see without her
a milestone beyond bearing.
september full moon
bring her back to me.
two cedars
crescent moon
sleep, my girl.
[A short story, exclusive to this website. Illustration by Amelia Onorato.] The Selkie and the Man
By Luanne Rice
I knew right from the beginning that I would kill for him. A life for a life; the one he had saved was mine. Gray-green waves curling into themselves, wind blowing the tops off, trails of dirty foam across the sea. He saw me struggling, perhaps even heard the crunch of my bones. I know he saw the blood.
Read More