Gingerbread House Lit Mag

The Moon’s Footprint

I read a story about a girl who lassoed the moon, held it in her arms, and soothed it from the stars. If the moon needed soothing, I could not tell. I thought it was a cloud sharing its wealth when rain drops fell, but perhaps they were tears.

When I looked at the moon, I did not notice a bruise. I imagined the gray shapes as crevices, valleys, canyons of white-shaded rock. I imagined man’s footprint indented into its skin, and we celebrating.

The moon did not need comfort, I said, so I never offered it a cup of tea.

I bought tea cups at a thrift store. A drawn mouse climbs the handles almost drowning in the liquid. I could have asked the moon to share a cigarette, too, or perhaps, some whiskey. Perhaps a lasso and a hug were not enough.

Perhaps I should offer the moon another few nights from black holes, the sun, and asteroids vying for Earth’s attention. Perhaps I should take its hand and rub its palm like my friend’s did to each other in middle school. Perhaps a night at the bar, a round of golf, or a hike in the woods makes it feel better. Perhaps morning mass at a church so it could pray to the flickering candles would make it think of home.

Perhaps the stars, or the galaxies, or outer space does not upset the moon.

Perhaps the moon did not want to be lassoed to Earth, to be held and soothed. Perhaps the moon does not like Earth. Perhaps it circles, tries to leave, but it cannot walk away, and the ocean seduces so it lingers like a magnet incapable of escape.

Perhaps I should pitch the rope to the moon so it could lasso me.

Renée M. Bailey


Renée M. Bailey is from Lima, Ohio. After moving south, she earned an M.A. from Austin Peay State University. Renée writes fiction and drama, where she has published in Red Mud Review, PRODUCT, and has had her ten-minute play, “Analogous” performed at the Roxy Regional Theatre. Her editorial experience includes Zone 3 and Mississippi Review. Presently, Renée is a doctoral student at the University of Southern Mississippi’s Center for Writers.

Artwork: Christian Schloe, Kingdom of Clouds

This entry was published on July 30, 2017 at 12:01 am and is filed under 25 (July 2017), Archive, Fiction. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.
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