Fishing for Nothing in Particular

The moon pulls me into a watery swell
dipping her pointed crescent
and twisting it for good measure.

Where there once was question

and answer, good
and evil, now rests

the weight of my heart.
Ma’at holds Her scales steady

as she dredges out the truth, unbothered

neither by the endless flow
of salt water tears,

nor the desire of the moon
to ebb the shoreline dry
to watch her catch
disappear into the horizon. ♦



C. Louise Williams

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