Our fights were a barrage of arrows
going to the softest places,
as if everything depended
on the outcome.
On this last desperate voyage,
in a wreck of broken masts
and shredded sails, we founder,
sink, don’t realize we’ve drowned
until we’re beyond soundings,
at fathoms so deep no lead
and line can find us, the currents
pulling our remains toward
Sarah Russell is still trying to describe the moon in a way that isn’t cheesy and blogs about it at sarahrussellpoetry.net.