that moon.

the first times i crossed the grass into the road, past the road and onto the sidewalk leading to his place, i couldn't help but notice the moon.

it was shining. it was watching me.

i crossed the grass in front of the steps that led to the door and went in quickly, quietly. that moon was watching and it disapproved--its cheese face pale and watery like egg whites. the moon, one big eye, staring at me. but once i was inside the moon couldn't see. it couldn't hear us.

i've loved the moon, but lately i'm not so sure. sometimes one doesn't want to be looked at.

that moon. the name cynthia means moon goddess. i am a moon goddess when... how does that song go... when i'm on my knees. what does the name holly mean anyway? it's just a tree. i'm the entire moon. if it wasn't for me reflecting sunlight, he wouldn't even see her in the dark.

last night, as i crossed the grass, the sidewalks and road, i looked at the moon. "i didn't do anything," i told it. for a moment i thought i saw it flicker.

when i got to my room, i slept like the dead.

the things i kept:

a pair of his socks. i wear them sometimes, though i don't know why.

four of his white undershirts. i wear these, too. it makes me feel like i've won something.

one gray shirt i gave him. it made me feel better to take it back.

the diamonds and amethyst necklace he gave me, though i don't wear it anymore. i was crying when i took it off for the first time and he asked why. i told him it didn't work because he had told me it would protect my heart. i plan to wear it again someday, regardless. just not yet.

pictures of him. since i live alone, i have them up. everywhere. i like the ghosts, they keep me company.

the boxing glove keychains.

his old boxing gloves. i haven't had the nerve to try them on yet. i'll keep them for his children.

his engagement ring. i'll keep it for his wife.

koda's hair on my purple chair. i could clean it off, but choose not to.

his family contacts. i wrote to his grams yesterday.

a piece of lingerie i never had the nerve to wear.

open space.

time that stops.

sleepless nights.

a reoccurring dream where there's always water, so much water, a cat, and tiny cakes. i eat them all and she has none.

The beginning and end of a story I worked on this semester called "Pecos River"

The beginning:

By February, Cindy had lost her sense of humor. She was twenty-five and having her first break-up with her only love. She was on the highway back to her hometown, Carlsbad--a slow and brightly-lighted town full of Mexicans and cowboys and Mexican cowboys, a town that smelled of creosote in the morning, whose lament was made of mourning doves and creaking pecan branches. A modest river, the Pecos, crept through this place.

She grew up in a blue house next to the river which brought her many offerings. Her first vision of death was a rotting carp that baked in the grass. Her second vision was a bloated goose. When she was nine, she did not see it, but the Pecos offered a dead human body near the Bataan Bridge, according to her parents’ morning conversation one day. This river offered coins and rusted cans, a tire, a shopping cart, mosquitos, slimy bottles, and once when she rode her bike into the water, it offered back a young girl and her bicycle. This was her first and only attempt at suicide. It was the first of three waves of depression Cindy would have in her life. She was eleven.

The end:

The Pecos River really put on a show this time of day. At Lower Tansill Dam, the sun was setting as she parked her car and got out. The sky was cotton candy. It was fire. It was water and the river was the sky. They reflected onto each other in a great display of rainbow sherbet colors. Cindy began to jog along the bank of the river. She was almost to the Bataan Bridge when she spotted it. Her spirit was gliding in and out of the water. It had turned almost completely into water itself and wore a necklace of old bottles, rusted coins and fishbones around its neck. Cindy stopped and watched for a moment. It saw her watching and curled its scaly fingers at her. She smiled and decided to jog back to her car. It was time to meet her friend for dinner. She wasn’t exactly sure how she would get a hold of her spirit, but Cindy knew she wouldn’t leave this town again with out it.