by Michael Grant Smith Jonatan Pie When you wished upon twilight’s first star, you should’ve made certain your chosen target wasn’t a lesser spark. You bound your yearning to the twinkle of an American Airlines flight outbound to Orlando. No one on the airplane cared about your hopes and dreams; the passengers aspired only to find their luggage on the carousel and receive a decent rental car. Planets are a better second choice — they’re bright and vulgar, which means you fini

by Michael Grant Smith Mehrab Sium Yesterday evening I loitered in our backyard and glimpsed the last crescent of the moon. An incandescent sliver set into a liminal gray disc. One more thing I have to fix. You called out from the porch, “What are you doing out there in the dark?” “Walking the dog and enjoying the nighttime sky,” I replied. “We don’t own a dog.” The door slammed shut. I’m hair strands on a bar of soap, a box wine stain on taupe carpet, the rash that won’t go