Poem 173 ± November 24, 2015

Pilar Quintana
Half Moon

I would walk into the sea
on a moonless night.
Half moon,
orange and blushing,
peering from the shadows,
and her veil of
wispy cloud.

I could kiss you
under such a moon.
But I didn’t need to.
You raced ahead,
plunged into that
endless blackness,
whipped around like
sea breeze,
pressed your lips to mine…
salt spray off a rogue wave…

pulling me into the ocean
with the force of
a kiss…
I could not let go,
a fish on a line,
pulled by my

I would drown in so much
free air.
This immense night.
This secluded cove.

Your smile as you
released me.
Threw me back.

A taste of blood and freedom
on my lips,
and a tell-tale puncture
in my mouth,
that all the endless black waters
will never erase.

Pilar Qunitana3Pilar Quintana’s poems have appeared in MethuenLife, Athens Word of Mouth, and the anthology Songs from the Castle’s Remains (CreateSpace, 2013), edited collaboratively by the Grey Court Poets of the Merrimack Valley in northern Massachusetts. She holds a BA in Creative Arts from Bradford College in Haverhill, Massachusetts and is a member of the Arts Institute Group of the Merrimack Valley, the Methuen-based Grey Court Poets, and the interdisciplinary group 4bstraction. Pilar lives and works in Methuen, Massachusetts.

This poem is not previously published.