Our baby would have been
a bright star, I tell him
one morning after
the miscarriage, though
I don’t think he picks up
on the tense, the way
would have been
unhinges me
like someone shattering
champagne bottles
against my sides
as I set sail for the blood
moon. The oxygen is thin
up here, is what I mean
to say as I drift further.
Or maybe, You will never
bring me back down
to earth now
that I’ve seen the stars
up close.
Header photograph © Jason D. Ramsey.
Mia Herman is a writer and editor living in Queens, NY. Her poems have appeared in or are forthcoming in the Bellevue Literary Review, Foliate Oak, F(r)iction, and Third Coast, and her nonfiction work earned an Honorable Mention in the 2014 Tom Howard / John H. Reid Fiction & Essay Contest. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Hofstra University and serves as the Creative Nonfiction Editor for F(r)iction as well as the Outreach Director for Brink Literacy Project. When she’s not writing or editing, Mia is most likely a) curating road trip playlists, b) watching obscene amounts of reality TV, or c) setting her friends up on blind dates.