Poetry by Laura Linart

Aestival Son

King of sea glass
on the semi-desert: 

Drift! Half-mortal,
with the moonstone tide
and midnight yang.

Cosmos ride the high seas.
The lambent nightscape
is quickening.

Cover your surfboard
with starlit crystals.

An age is in its nocturne.
An untried sun rises.

Dark Moon

stripped /

down

now

who can predict / when a dark

moon

will

rise

cycling senselessly between

thighs skies

shivering like a puncture

wound, why –

in the aphrodisiac of night, why –

orbiting a toothless night / a night full of teeth,
hungry night, sweet

dream / dream to be

severing from reckless

 gravity

 singing deep throated /

depravity

dark moon,

dark moon,

rise.

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Laura Linart is a poet and writer based in New York City. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in publications such as Green Mountains Review, The Rumpus, Pembroke Magazine and 580Splits. Say hi to her on Twitter or IG @Pennyscientist