Chloe Stricklin

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​Chloe Stricklin is a Pennsylvanian poet living in Minneapolis. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing from the Bennington Writing Seminars, where she was the recipient of the Liam Rector Poetry Prize. Her work has appeared in Crab Orchard Review, New South, Pittsburgh Poetry Review, and others.

Hanging the Moon

​I perched on the top step of the ladder, 

toes folded over the edge 

and asked Wes 

to try not to look up my jumper.

There was a sound I interpreted as agreement 

so I stretched myself higher still, 

adjusting the glowing orb between my hands.

A little to the left, he instructed. So the moon

and I shifted. No wait, the right side— 

move it a little higher. There; perfect. 

I leaned back to get a view. Teetering on my heels

I felt the presence of his hands behind me, 

ready to absorb my weight though I’d never come down. 

It’s still crooked, Wes. 

I guess I was assessing the position of other things.

My best friend thought he was clever. 

My best friend who thought 

he could be my best friend.

Eyes on the scattered stars at his feet, I said 

Are you still going to spot me 

when you don’t want to fuck me anymore?

Of course I will.

He laughed and it wounded me, 

the ease of that untruth—  

a slug that ricocheted 

off all our tiny half-built galaxies

and into my open mouth.

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