When the Tides Held the Moon

by Venessa Vida Kelley

A new ache dwells in my spirit tonight I dare not examine, and yet, what else can I do in this cage with so costly a gift as Benigno’s song except place it in my heart beside the moon?

“Río,” I whispered, out of breath, and not from wheezing. “You make me feel like I’m kissing the tides.” “Benigno,” he whispered back. “You make me feel like I am holding the moon.”

I’d dropped my English because Spanish has so many words for declaring love, and I needed to use them all before it was too late. And though his tears were invisible in water, we both wept to the sound of promises whispered like prayers through the glass about a future where time couldn’t chase us, where my heart would beat for him for as long as he wanted it—until the oceans boiled and the rivers dried. Por los siglos de los siglos.