Deanna Lernihan is a Michigan-based medical writer who focuses on mental health and suicide prevention. When she is not spending time with her family, she is writing poetry and enjoying nature. Her poetry has recently appeared in Last Stanza Poetry Journal, CERASUS Magazine, and Synkroniciti Magazine.
Another Poem to the Moon
Remember how I used to gather and drain you?
I bundled you to my breast before I tore
your gibbous belly
and drank your blue
without wiping my mouth.
I miss how my lips would oxidize to black
how my legs became many antelope,
but not true antelope, pronghorn americana
breaking cakey, low-tide sand with hoofbeats,
stotting over rock and urchin.
I stopped only to rinse my mouth
with stranded sardines,
smile at your waxing face
so you could see little fish —
you always said you wanted to see them
flopping between my cheek teeth.
You used to pull me toward you
in the afternoon east,
used to tell me I made you
rise so high.