Pandora’s Moon

Let’s forget the echoes                                              
of my thirtieth year
for there’s refuge                               
in the night and the moon.
 
Moonlit night                                     
where imagination stretches starward.
Moonlit night                                     
where my name falls off like an autumn leaf.
Moonlit night                                     
where I’m a sapling attune to winter wind.
Moonlit night                                     
where my past hibernates, ant-sized.

Read more "Pandora’s Moon"

Pandora

Eve Taft is a writer who lives in Minneapolis. She loves James Joyce, rainy days, and stories about magic. Pandora your fingers ghosting across my shoulders push me off balance every so lightly into your deep eyes, falling through a dusky red room, dripping candelabras my fingers passing through the flames betting my skin against […]

Read more "Pandora"