It was a half-blood moon;
by Virginia Laurie
It was half of a full moon and
“blood” red (orange-red), but
I didn’t notice it at first. I was
On the balcony, listening to
Waves I could not see (a moving
Darkness that felt like Death)
And to my left there was a red
Half-circle in the sky, and I thought
How strange it was for that parasail
To be so close to the shore, how
You cannot parasail at night, how
The parasail was perfectly still.
I Still hadn’t realized until I dragged
A chair over and my laptop and
Began writing another poem. I guess
Writing does help make connections.
all I can think about is the
Living inky swell in front of me, an
Impenetrable being without eyes or
A body’s edge, pushing the dune grass
Beneath my bare feet, its hot breath,
Of course, the hot warm breath, like
You ask, Will Death be A place, a feeling,
or a thing?
And I Say all three,
and the sound of
the Cicadas too.
About the Author
Virginia Laurie is a student at Washington and Lee University whose work has been published in Apricity, LandLocked, Panoply, Phantom Kangaroo and Merrimack Review.