The Fem, one of my all-time favorite literary magazines, originally published this poem.


she was tired of the way
the tides moved her
so she decided
to take down the moon.
she climbed into the tired stars on
a creaky ladder
and peeled it away
like a band-aid
and it came away sticky
with dark sky
like blood.
she crushed it into a ball
and the sky-blood smeared her hands
and she climbed shakily downwards
and the all-seeing stars filled
the place where it had been, and she
tossed the moon,
into the garbage
with the empty takeout boxes,
and that was it.
no more tides—no more unsteady ocean
inside of her—no more feeling a love
she should not feel.