The thirty-sixth Moon Prize for the April 19, 2019 full moon goes to Dianne Moritz's breath-taking story "The Last Good-Bye."

THE LAST GOOD-BYE

Dianne Moritz

You scrape together enough money to fly out to San Francisco for a brief visit before his Marine unit ships out to Vietnam.

He drives you down the coast to see the sights: Big Sur, Carmel, Monterey, Steinbeck country.

On Highway 1, he's chugging beers. Your hands shake and stomach flips. You're sure he's going to veer off the tight shoulder, slip over the cliffs, and plunge you to your death in the churning surf below.

That night he wants to catch some topless acts on Broadway. The surly bouncers refuse to let you in. "I'll be your girlie show," you promise.

He books a room, but, before you head inside, he hauls you across the street, buys a gallon jug of cheap, red Gallo.

Once in the moldy room you want to wash up, so you trek to the community, urine-soaked bathroom down the hall.

Back, behind closed doors, his sobs sear your heart, as fear flames in your belly. "Don't cry," you whisper, then throw yourself into his trained-killer arms. Sex is rough and quick and you say: "Talk to me! Please talk to me!"

He's moaning now, tears staining his handsome cheeks, and words shoot out like bullets: dirty gooks, jungles, landmines, leeches, rats as big as dogs, returning home in a body bag.

You fall to the floor, helpless, confused. After all, he's the one who quit school, signed up, left you.

Next morning, farewells are cool. As the airport walkway pulls you away, you turn around once to wave good-bye, only to watch his strong shoulders retreat into the crowd.

Once home, you join protest groups, march to the capitol building with new friends. Sometime later you write a "Dear John" letter you wish you'd never sent.

* * * * *

"The Last Good-Bye" was first published in Fewer Than 500 Words (Feb. 26, 2019).

Dianne Moritz writes poetry and children’s books from her home in Southampton, NY. Her book, 1, 2, 3 BY THE SEA, was on Bank Street College’s “best book list of 2014.” Adult pieces have appeared The Drabble, Adelaide Literary Magazine, Haikuniverse, The Haiku Foundation, 101 Words, Writing in a Woman’s Voice, and others. She is a frequent contributor to Highlights Magazines for kids.

These days of great intensity

by Judy Katz-Levine

I am climbing Miriam's ladder, the rungs are pearl,

calla lilies float around me.

The down-gray sky urges fortitude and the whistling of a strange harmony

imbued with the intensity of a gospel.

Nothing will pull me down, no evil hand

brushing against a dying bird will keep me from life's breath.

The daughter I am climbing with will be singing her high lydians

and her computers will send lights to mysterious friends.

There's a thrill to life,

an edge to the way hands move through my hair.

You can bet they are not invisible,

you can bet they are doves.

* * * * *

Judy Katz-Levine's book The Everything Saint was published in 2018 by Word Poetry (available on Amazon).  Of the book, the publisher says "The Everything Saint shows us the holy in the ordinary, and Judy Katz-Levine is a faithful guide to such wonders."  Her recent poetry and translations have appeared in Writing In A Woman's Voice, Miriam's Well, Salamander, Blue Unicorn, Ibbetson Street, Event Horizon, Peacock Journal, and many other venues.  Also a jazz flutist, she enjoys playing at jam sessions.

At the Ob/Gyn

by Betsy Mars

The doctor spreads a thin layer of conductive gel

on the moon-shaped surface of my pregnant skin.

The ultrasound wand passes over and detects a beat -

the faint first pulse of my new-formed boy –

the reality of a body within my body finally sinking in.

Across the street, my mother lies in intensive care,

paralyzed from an attempt to remove a tumor from her brain;

I encouraged the surgery. She might never walk again.

The doctor reads my tears as joy

and I couldn't say whether he's right or wrong.

It's true we're only flies to wanton gods -

we lay our eggs, create a buzz, and then we're gone.

* * * * *

"At the Ob/Gyn" is from Betsy Mars's new chapbook Alinea.

Betsy Mars is a poet and educator who was born in Connecticut and moved several times before settling in the LA area. She spent two formative years in Brazil where she attended kindergarten, retaining the Portuguese words for cat, dog, and come here.
Her father was a professor and her mother was a social worker, and together they gave her an early appreciation for language and social justice, as well as an overly developed tendency toward introspection.

She has a bachelor’s and master’s degree from USC which she puts to no obvious use. A mother, avid traveler, and animal lover, her work has recently appeared in The Rise Up Review, Writing in A Woman’s Voice, and The Ekphrastic Review, as well as in a number of anthologies, and the California Quarterly. Her first chapbook, entitled Alinea, is available through Amazon or directly from the author at marsmyst@gmail.com.

Reparations

by Betsy Mars

Such a fine web you strung:

light lines in my window

I didn't see. I didn’t see

when I pushed

my hand through,

expecting the resistance 

of glass. I punched 

a hole mindless

of your efforts and you.

You patiently re-hung, 

thread

after thread,

I watched you return

to the center time

and again until at last

it was complete 

and you rested, well-earned.

In the morning,

tatters of silk blown out in the night.

* * * * *

"Reparations" is from Betsy Mars's new chapbook Alinea.

Betsy Mars is a poet and educator who was born in Connecticut and moved several times before settling in the LA area. She spent two formative years in Brazil where she attended kindergarten, retaining the Portuguese words for cat, dog, and come here.
Her father was a professor and her mother was a social worker, and together they gave her an early appreciation for language and social justice, as well as an overly developed tendency toward introspection.

She has a bachelor’s and master’s degree from USC which she puts to no obvious use. A mother, avid traveler, and animal lover, her work has recently appeared in The Rise Up Review, Writing in A Woman’s Voice, and The Ekphrastic Review, as well as in a number of anthologies, and the California Quarterly. Her first chapbook, entitled Alinea, is available through Amazon or directly from the author at marsmyst@gmail.com.

Sculptures

by Francesca West

I went home to visit family

A garden of stone sculptures

Visions from Greek mythology

Versions of a personal hell

I talked to my mother

Eyes gray and dull

Hunched over sadness

Giving up

I touched the stress lines

and glided my hands

along grooves of smooth stone

I can’t relax the anger

or give fluidity to the stiffness.

This family hardens me

to feel lost and without

Engravings of attitudes

stretched across the bottom

to remind me

life’s choices define us

I’ll never visit home again

or see you with light in your eyes

I’ll touch the pain

and internalize my loss

Look where I’m growing hard inside

Define what this stone’s made of

Who I am, and what I represent,

from within where my soul resides

* * * * *

"Sculptures" was first published in Silver City Quarterly Review 2018 Anthology. 

Whale Meditation

by Francesca West

In the water

We submerge into our deepest depth

Then come back up for air.

You can accomplish everything down there

But must resurface daily, hourly,

Go deep. Feel the pressure,

Uncover your sunken dreams 

And the scary things that have taken over.

Dive to where the folds are and peel back layers,

Spread the whole truth open. Underwater, you dive as many times

As you want to see yourself rise.

Go down. Submerge in the water.

Explore the hidden depths.

Piece by piece you’ll learn to live,

Extend your breath, 

And reach your divine presence.

It’s in pieces on the ocean’s floor.

If your aversion to go down deep is not overcome

You only live from shallow shores.

In Unison

by Susan Tepper

Scatter your ash over my tomato plant

Drip your blood into my milk pitcher

Stir your tears around in my sugar bowl

Drop an organ, plump and steaming

Into the saddle of my spirit:

Rejoice!  Rejoice!

Come ride with me while the moon

Is at once in all its four phases

And we two ghosts

Will trample foreign ground

See birds with backward heads

Flowers forced root-first up

Cats suckling litters of soft gray mice

Miracles! shouts the modern world

Blindfolded—

For a period of seconds sweetly in unison

* * * * *

"In Unison" was first published in London Poetry Pearl anthology from London Poetry Festival, 2009.

More about Susan Tepper and her widely published work can be found at www.susantepper.com.