Lunita

mija you must know her
& I & others – we dwell
and let our fingers carve
moons into a molten man-        
made mirror, it’s a thought
experiment! a celestial pen-
cil! drips golden fluid so we
call it honey(like): illuminate(d)
presence on the restless
wounds, eve presses cool red
earth on the cracked soles of
mourning, serpentine sister is
brown! & loving! & a star!
has realized! what to do! how
to reach! the planted bones of
those like us: tangled, fibrous
lungs intimate with melanin
skins. we bleed with lips on
death’s warm cheek & graze
a stranger’s hand on the sub-
way & shiver & sigh – there’s
orbital space between spaces
– a revolutionary’s dwelling
between moments – a sleepy
darkness where the night un-
dresses & planets welcome the
weeping with their sharp agave
tongues, slicing veil by veil

A St. Louis native, Mitali Khanna Sharma is studying English and Sustainable Development at Columbia University in New York. At Columbia, she is an Art & Design editor for Quarto Literary Magazine. Mita appreciates tea & oranges and holds firm to the belief that earthworms are beautiful creatures. Sometimes (often) the moon makes her cry. Send her your dream visions and song recommendations at mitaliterature@gmail.com.