Texas Penumbra

I realized the Texas sunrise couldn’t be beautiful
because of the shadows, the ever looming colossus of

weight that hovers right over every horizon, heavy with
hate. We claim that love conquers all and we kneel

before a god that we claim thrives on that. But we
kick up dust in the face of that infatuation. I knew I was

beautiful but weird. That this land nurtured me but was
also systematically poisoning me. Like runoff in the water.

We lay on our backs holding hands perusing the stars, the spark,
the expanse of who we aren’t because of the darkness.

The way some use the light as a disguise but bask in the killing
of the sun; that’s where the destruction embarks.

I snap that photo that everyone says is so gorgeous.
Just look at that landscape. It’s really too bad it’s a lie.

Sarah Frances Moran is a writer, editor, animal lover, videogamer, queer Latina. She thinks Chihuahuas should rule the world and prefers their company to people 90% of the time. Her work has most recently been published or is upcoming in Drunk Monkeys, FreezeRay Poetry, Dirty Chai, Crabfat, Rust+Moth, Maudlin House and The Bitchin' Kitsch. She is Editor/Founder of Yellow Chair Review. You may reach her at www.sarahfrancesmoran.com Read other articles by Sarah Frances, or visit Sarah Frances's website.