Moonstone
Andreea Iulia Scridon
, or hecatolite
the jewel
is in a position of superiority to its namesake
the moon has a schiller
it lacks play of color:
despite its elusiveness,
the moon, the fundamental orb,
is virgin.
if boredom was weighed in carats,
just think how pure you would be
catapulted out of the yellow school bus
every torpid afternoon
snacks, homework, TV,
the stillness, repressive,
of ex-sugarcane plantations and forEverglades
for many monotonous miles.
bondsmen of the unhealthy, un-American instability
of the tropical temperament,
with all its currents,
tropical storms,
rain spells
and wild beasts,
we must be dull,
we must be infernally dull,
we must be cow country, must make zealous rows of farm fences
(get the hell off my property)
as white as our Chiclet teeth,
Hello Joe,
and long too,
like Flagler’s train tracks,
the molars going all the way back,
not a single missing link.
She should get some help, this climate,
fix her hair up,
maybe take some pills,
she should take better care of herself.
Andreea Iulia Scridon is a poet, fiction writer and a translator from Romanian to English. She studies Creative Writing at the University of Oxford, and previously studied Comparative Literature at King’s College London. Currently, she is assistant editor at Asymptote Journal, where she also writes. She has published in World Literature Today, the European Literature Network, and elsewhere. She writes at aiscridon.com. “Moonstone” is part of a larger collection of poems on the state of Florida. She is a contributing editor at E·ratio.
