Demi-lune
by K.M. Praschak

When Earth rises like a discolored football
my latest social worker will attempt
to introduce me to another pair
of Luna City's overworked foster parents.

The tired mining moms always text
that I need to keep up with school,
shove myself down into that hamster box
and turn in my slates every morning.

Once, human services took me up
to a tanker cop with lace in her hair.
Stuck on the rail, we drank ambergris meth.
Her slurred advice--marry rich and often.

Most of the time, I'm left alone,
allowed to roam the corridors' crowds
until just a kiss past curfew; the lights flicker,
then the herd of us all plug into our tables overnight.

Tired of floating, I've uncurled new life instructions
ghost-transmitted since Dad went to recycling,
so with a wave and one last click I'll vanish
from the world above and this chilly half-moon.

Oklahoma writer K.M. Praschak's work has appeared in Star*Line and Mount Zion Speculative Review, as well as the anthologies Fall and Rise (Whortleberry Press) and The Amityville House of Pancakes 3 (Creative Guy Publishing). Her first poem for Raven Electrick was The West Preston Japan Club.