by Alex Carrigan
A golden shovel after Florence + The Machine
If we’re going to fall into the night, bring the
smallest amount of light you can. There’s no stars
around us, only fireflies trapped in jars by the
restless couples formed on summer nights. The moon
may reach us down here, hurtling down as they
try to grab us before we no longer have
their smile in our eyes. When I think of all
the plummets we’ve taken together, how we’ve been
looking for the right drop, ensuring all candles are blown
out before we left home, we can only let all the fears out.
Alex Carrigan (he/him) is a Pushcart-nominated editor, poet, and critic from Alexandria, VA. He is the author of Now Let’s Get Brunch (Querencia Press, 2023) and May All Our Pain Be Champagne (Alien Buddha Press, 2022). He has appeared in SoFloPoJo, Cotton Xenomorph, Bullshit Lit, HAD, fifth wheel press, and more. Visit carriganak.wordpress.com or follow him on Twitter @carriganak for more info.
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