Moon Milk Skin
This mixed-media piece comes to us from Melissa Nunez. Melissa lives and creates in the caffeinated spaces between awake and dreaming. She makes her home in the Rio Grande Valley region of South Texas, where she enjoys observing, exploring, and photographing the local flora and fauna with her three home-schooled children. She is contributor for The Daily Drunk Mag and Yellow Arrow, and staff writer for Alebrijes Review. Twitter: @MelissaKNunez
Transcription:
Your mouth, nubile cactus fruit picked
clean. Pulled towards me to savor—flesh
and seeds, to swallow—all that you contain.
There’s no expelling—this need of you in cycles
of once and again. Your face hovers above me,
moon-milk skin half shadowed. One side silvered
lunar light, the other draped in dusk-dark waves,
developing deep ink of backseat keep. One eye
glitters a universe of stars, the other crater-dimmed.
I don’t know which will win, night or light,
but you are here. And even after full cloak
of darkness descends, you will rise again.
 | A guest post by
|