The Cherry Robbers

by Sarai Walker

The destination isn’t what’s important but the light, best in late afternoon. Artists chase the light.

When you live in defiance of yourself, you can adapt to your circumstances, but remnants of who you are at your core remain. A bit of wildness that can’t be tamed. Tap tap.

I didn’t look up from my drawing, annoyed at being interrupted, at never getting to be alone.

“I am out with lanterns, looking for myself.”

“I just don’t care to dance.” “Why not?” Teddy seemed genuinely surprised, apparently unaccustomed to being rejected. Calla stared at Rosalind as she whirled past. “Because the world is coming to an end,” she said, not specifying that she meant our world, not the world.

night-blooming iris silver iridescence in lunar dust shimmering on a riverbank at the edge of elysium we’ll wait for you —calla chapel