- Hermione Byron
Be The Moon
To be the moon is what he wanted me to be.
round serene
A face hovering
over
the
cradle
at night
but when he became my sun,
his heat burnt my sky.
To be the moon is what he wanted me to be.
round serene
A face hovering
over
the
cradle
at night
but when he became my sun,
his heat burnt my sky.
The Age of Discord The refugee’s home is my home But it only became my home when the refugee thanked me for it This is the Age of Discord, the Fourth Age For the refugee in the Migrant Kingdom The hom
In the Smoking Area Cristina Rizzo “You ok?” He scares me. His voice is hugged by the cushioned music from inside the club. My ears feel trapped under years of fabric. “Yeah, I was just feeling a bit
At the bottom of the garden the little girl plays. It is spring and the sun is warm in this spot, Filtered through the gaps in the blue arbour bench — It smells fresh with a new lick of paint. The lit