Abduction, Again. by Janis Butler Holm

In the beginning, we soared. We knew the crackle of constellations, the heat of worlds unborn. Our coupling was cosmic. He said it was in the stars.

Delicately, he probed me, mound and crevice, plane and orb. He showed me his craft.

When the nights grew cooler, I should have returned to earth. But he promised me the moon. I floated on a cloud.

Now he’s light-years away. No longer the chosen one, I wonder where I’ve been. Here, in the dark, he said he needed space.

Janis Butler Holm lives in Athens, Ohio, where she was Associate Editor for Wide Angle, the film journal. Her essays, stories, poems, and performance pieces have appeared in small press, national and international magazines. Her plays have been produced in the U.S., Canada and England.

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