Little Moon

You were not my sun
You were my little moon
You were my tiny bear
You dug through
the garbage of my heart
ate what could be eaten
left me to sort
through the rest

Little moon
you once warned me
against a man
who said I was reliable
as though it were bad

Little moon
from your vantage point
I am blaze orange
an open field

Little moon
even in death
I look north
and see you always

---

Darci Schummer is the author of the story collection Six Months in the
Midwest (Unsolicited Press), co-author of the poetry/prose collaboration
Hinge (broadcraft press), and author of the forthcoming novel The Ballad
of Two Sisters (Unsolicited Press). Her writing has appeared in places
such as Ninth Letter, Folio, Jet Fuel Review, Pithead Chapel, Sundog
Lit, and several other journals and anthologies. Connect with her at
darcischummer.com.