City, Stone, Moon

The young woman fled through city night to reach the ocean.

Down,

down at the water she pitched stones at a dull reflection

of the quarter moon.

She’d always wished for two moons:

One full while the other is sliced.

A car-strung highway hissed on the clifftop above,

headlights projecting writhing ghosts into a low bank of clouds.

She thought.

For every first dance, a last.

For each certainty, something not.

With one final chuck, she broke the moon in two. 

--Mitchell Hegman