Lighthouses by Rachel Hyman




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I launch beer bottles at the moon
hoping to open a sluicegate
or knock it out of orbit.

Instead I’m left with palms
full of moondust
cut with shards of glass.

Winter came early this year,
and I lay in repose,
as branch laden with snow,
dragging my feet,
my sparrow guts.

The moon tips sickly shadows
at me, and still I wait.

Goodnight, moon.
I’ll come for you soon.



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