• Vol. 10
  • Chapter 11


Remember the blood moon—
plump grapefruit you thought
to pluck from the sky.

And that first flight, how
those thick white clouds
looked whipped so soft
they’d melt your moth.

Before mom
brought you earthbound,
you saw your slick shoes
sprint their sweet surface.

But soon, your hands wrinkle
and spot, like that old rock.
Someday, you grow
cratered and gray.