A poem by Edna Cardona


Art by Karo Boyajyan

The moon watches us through the velvet night

The riptide watchmen remind us that the ocean is everlasting and will kill you without hesitation 

I spend a lot of time ankle-deep when no one is looking 


My mother is a heavier sleeper than she thinks 

Most mornings I leave through the front door to greet the unconquered hours with foggy breath and a smile

I park on the street so she doesn’t hear my car start and I head east

Stumble out of the driver’s seat and onto the sand

And I miss things gone by like innocence and potential and a time when I was good 


I wonder if or when he’ll leave me

I’m not good enough for him and I think he knows it 

I wonder if I’d be happier if I cut off my parents


I wonder if my friend and I will always be friends 

Is she actually going to leave the country and if she does will she keep her promise of one postcard a month

My friends are good people 

I’m barely better than my worst actions

I honestly don’t know why they love me