MOON GUTS

Haley Hodge

I took a knife to the moon 
and watched its blue guts spill out. 

Like snakes, they slipped down the dark river 
only to return with the tide each morning, 
staining the cuffs of my jeans with red salt.

Fish whisper secrets on the end of my line. I cut 
thru their soft bellies, find a foot, find my dreams 
in their blood.

You are burning. So am I. 
Hands melting like candles, I snuff out the flames 
with my tongue, taste the smoke on your lips.

I row downriver, oars dipping into sky. I see my body 
floating beneath clouds, a snagged sheet 
in the wind. Dragging her up

to shore, I comb stars 
and pebbles from her hair. The light —
it has to come from somewhere.

Haley Hodge is a poet originally from the Blue Ridge Mountain region who now calls the Seacoast of New Hampshire home. Her work has appeared in Frogpond, Written Tales Magazine, and Anacapa Review, among others.