‘Over the Moon’ by Swetha Amit I asked mama how far the moon is from my window, if there was a man on the moon and she says I don’t think so because no one can live on the moon, no water no air, no place to build a home silvery glow and milky white like creamy cheese on some days with my binoculars I get a closeup of this circular wonder, impeccable with its silvery glow, illuminating the dark streets and nights and then I see those pockets like patches of dark clouds hollow and appearing bruised I ask mama if the moon is hurt and she says that’s how it is I want to comfort the moon I want to heal it the way it has by beaming and smiling at me whenever I’ve felt sad thinking about my father wondering if he’d come home after performing his duty at the border when I see the moon after a few years no longer creamy white, just remnants of hollow black has the moon really changed I wonder or that my eyes have lost their sheen? Meet the Poet! Author of her memoir, ‘A Turbulent Mind – My journey to Ironman 70.3’, Swetha Amit is currently pursuing her MFA at the University of San Francisco. She has been published in Atticus Review, JMWW journal, Oranges Journal, Gastropoda Lit, Full House literary, Amphora magazine, Grande Dame literary journal, Black Moon Magazine, Fauxmoir lit mag, Poets Choice Anthology, and has upcoming pieces in Drunk Monkeys, Agapanthus Collective, The Creative Zine, and Roi Faineant Press. She is one of the contest winners of Beyond Words literary magazine, her piece upcoming in November. She is also an alumna of Tin House Winter Workshop 2022 and the Kenyon Review Writers’ workshop 2022. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Like this:Like Loading... Published by fragmentedvoices A small, independent press based in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, UK, and Prague, the Czech Republic View all posts by fragmentedvoices