Wear your moon dress tonight,
the one that makes people believe
in women on the moon, of the moon.
We’ll go skiing without our poles,
glide right into the ocean,
laugh all the way down. Poseidon
will greet us with wine & stories,
and you’ll ask him to take us
to Atlantis, but he’ll tell you,
Moon Girl, you don’t belong in the city,
and you’ll tell him he’s not a very
good host. So we’ll leave, climb
a ladder all the way up our favorite
tree, and I’ll count how many
times you say the word rise
before you rest your head on a branch
and ask me if I think our tree
can feel your skin the way you
can feel its bark. I’ll take your hand,
draw a balloon in your palm,
kiss you goodnight, and watch you float
away, moondancing as you go.
Milica Mijatović is a Serbian poet and translator. Born in Brčko, Bosnia and Hercegovina, she relocated to the United States where she earned a BA in Creative Writing and English Literature from Capital University. She recently received her MFA in Creative Writing from Boston University and is a recipient of a Robert Pinsky Global Fellowship in Poetry. Her poetry appears or is forthcoming in The Louisville Review, Poet Lore, Consequence, Santa Clara Review, and elsewhere.