Tag: artistlife

  • The Moon and Me

    The Moon and Me

    She slaps a hard blade of ice white light across my eyes, peeking in from the highest corners of my bedroom windows.  “Let me be,” I tell her. “Don’t you know I am old? Of the earliness of babes? How a husband’s lunch won’t pack itself?” “You used to sit with me,” she says. “You used to sit with me and…