I would dive, let my fingertips become hard,

Image via Yasmin Acosta

calloused, and markedly round.
I would clench a knife with my teeth.
I would tremble in the depths and leave
even the memory of breath
behind on the beach
smothered in sand and out of reach.
I would gather, softly, softly,
shimmering abalone and curling seaweed —
all for your pearls if your pearls were for me.
— Ama, by Annette Marie Hyder

I was promised a SUPER MOON

but the clouds crept in with the summer haze
and they conspired, creeping clouds and shiftless haze.
And the haze, with its long lupine throat,
swallowed the moon
and the clouds floated like cream on top
greedily gloating over the taking of that
which I would see.
But I could still feel the soft glow
of that moon
and its pull pricked my skin
like an intuition of things
that are beyond believing
in their beauty and promise
although not
meant to be.
— Super Moon 2014, by Annette Marie Hyder

There is magic

Stardust by Catrin Welz-Stein

in the air
slanting down in moonbeams
like Cupid’s arrows
penning love songs to the night.
You are also an arrow
in the night, a shot with aim that’s true.
I feel you
spinning your magic like motorcycle wheels
right outside my window
and from five floors up
I reach out and catch some
some magic
and a tiny smudge of you
in my hands like I am a heroine
who catches fletched arrows in her hand
and I tuck that arrow behind my ear
like a pencil.
I will use it to write my answer
and then I will pull the bowstring of my heart
and shoot it back to you.
There is Magic by Annette Marie Hyder