Issue 14

I know your heart beats like a jellyfish.
I know you want to be buried.

I picture that slow pull of tide to shore
until there is nothing to guide you forward
but memory, the knowledge that
something is wrong.

Tonight the moon is caught
in the sky’s net, with smaller fish
called stars.

The fossils of jellyfish look like
the moon’s surface, its craters made
by their bells.

It’s a study in absence.

At least you are luminescent.
I can see your heart glowing
through the membrane of your skin.
I can see it dim.