Honey(moon)
Photograph by Natalie Anderson
By Hannah Meyer
She touched the spot where skin meets hurricane
no one, not even the moon could summon his tides back
He can turn night into day,
a broken arm into a drunken fall,
but he smiles with the sun in his teeth
and offers her a bouquet of blood
Mouth like rotten fruit
silver shoes pressed into the sand
the blackbirds crawl out of her veins
dive like dusk
into mountains
She glints
alone.
Hannah Meyer is a writer, director, and dramaturg who recently graduated from Muhlenberg College. She is a fan of sudden lightning storms, chutzpah, and finding the perfect bagel.