by Natasha Moskaljov

She wears her spacesuit
when they dance in the water.
He’s strong because he can
carry both her and all her
air and earth and the callas
taking root wherever
his hands play those tunes
she heard him sing through
the speakers she slept with
at night. The promise is—
to float until gravity decides,
until the garden on her cheeks
disarms all the layers of salt
on his skin. She wants to tell him
about this peaceful war, about
the multitudes in her brain,
but she’s mute. His fingers taste
of love, of the future.

Natasha Moskaljov is a writer from Croatia. Her work appears in Typishly, Rue Scribe, Full House Literary and elsewhere. She won 1st place in Poems on the Move 2022 Competition, Channel Islands’ category. You can find her on Instagram @natashamoskaljov.