he reads to her, tells her what it was like to be a sailor of the seas on the moon. "don't stop talking," she tells him, dozing off, imagining the seas of zephyr.
spyglass on the moon a million miles away, the ether shatters by a little girl on her toes, standing on her mattress, clinging to her window above. stain glass eyes in the wake of moon and she breathes as the sea slamming onto the pane, receding and reaching; clouding and clearing. her breaths reach the moon and the moon reaches back with her hands pressed to the girl's eyes.
"one day," she tells the moon, the boy still at her bedside, "you and i will be together."