The moon is my baby. It keeps me up-- demanding its pablum. I am in a tower. I am always in this tower now, wearing brown, and sitting on a little stool in front of a little table in this little chamber that always needs cleaning. I dutifully pipe starlight in through a hole in the ceiling-- crushing celestial fragments down to tolerable volumes. I note my wiry hair that begs for pruning, the crescents swelling under my eyes, the stairs leading out to sky, as I spoon-feed my caged charge and wait for fullness.
Victoria Nordlund's poetry collection Binge Watching Winter on Mute was published by Main Street Rag in June 2019. She is a Best of the Net and 2020 Pushcart Prize Nominee, whose work has appeared in PANK Magazine, Rust+Moth, Chestnut Review, Pidgeonholes, and elsewhere. Visit her at VictoriaNordlund.com.