Caveat Spectator

When did we notice the moon
                                                    in the city, just one light
among many to perpetuate

                        the myth of our continuance?

We slept little, we spent our money.


                                                    And in the months of whiskey
and blossoming pear trees,

                        we fell miles into the black

well of night. What we didn’t know:
                                                              how it felt to be rescued,
the moon an opening

                    we could lift our hands to.

Read more from Issue No. 7 or share on Twitter.