Gia La Luna in Mezzo al Mare (Now the Moon is Over the Ocean)

After “La Danza” by Rolando Villazón

She blushes like the sky
fading quickly into night as fleeting clouds of pastel thicken into felt.
Through the interwoven woolen pieces,
stars peek, needle-thin and twinkling.
He freckles are more like firefish, though,
but they shine the same as
coral swallows her skin like a pacific reef contrasting the temperate ocean rush.
The moon blushes orange
like her hair in the nighttime
like our breath after tangerine breakfasts. The moon
is a bowl of yogurt with honey sinking in.
Her cheekbones morph with the syrupy moon glow,
skin blue-tinted against the glinting silverware stars but
still brilliant and hinting at a rosy flush.
Her lashes whispered sweet nothings to the aquamarine in her eyes so
I didn’t have to, but
nonetheless I hummed her “La Danza” under the stars.
Barbershop tenor became a foreign tone to her,
ears drunk on cricketsong rapsody; she seemed
content to witness my soprano tremors and
kiss my soprano face like a lonely moon drenched in

rose water.

Poem by Mackenzie Cook
Illustration by Deema Alana

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