Hanging like a half lit ornament against an opaque background it looks after me, or down on me. I can't tell. My pores itch to release the heat of the day into the cool night wind underneath its dim light. I let the cool darkness consume until every inch reaches toward that light … Continue reading running toward the moon
Author: Nick Saba
I'm a writer who practices ultrasound. Poetry is my passion, and Irony is my best friend. On my free time I take pictures of people's organs to help radiologists make diagnoses.