by Ana Prundaru
after his death, you inherit the pond ghosts
who trace a cord around the moon
make a double knot around her belly
that way the moon lines the road thick yellow
indignant lungs in December
wet lipped from sacramental wine
at home, you eat prayers with vodka,
letting them rot between your teeth
suffer through tone-deaf words at church
scrub away blessings till they evaporate
you want away from the swampy existence
drive off into numberless green
oddly, you start praying again
pray he'll never see you like this
and then you pray he will
* * *Ana Prundaru is the author of the forthcoming chapbook "Unstable Tales", by Dancing Girl Press. Her work appears in Ghost City Review, Kyoto Journal, Hermeneutic Chaos and others.
What inspires you to write and keep writing?
My main source of inspiration comes from communication. Discussions of current events, or even light conversations over coffee awaken the need to uncover personal philosophies, prejudices or beliefs. What keeps me going ultimately is attempting to capture and shape my identity and place in the world by articulating facets of my inner life and connecting them with reflections on the outer life.