Serendipitous clouds zipper the sky together, giving me celestial visions of a river, clear and lifeless, rowing its way to the bay I never returned from. The corset on my tongue is too tight. I must tell this story only with sentient and acceptable words. What if I told you there was a curse as old as the sea, and only a woman with a backbone of pearl can see the black shroud of the curse over other women’s heads? A woman is a swift and terrible thing. I am all dressed up in this blue sequin gown, and have nowhere to go. I need to be careful here. My corset is tightening. What I mean to say is the inglorious sunset and all the aquariums beneath was the real thing, and my best shot at something as furry as happiness.
Miniature Moon 