You turn in your sleep, and it is at times like these when I wish you could wake and listen: I am ill. I know there are times when you lie awake, hearing the sounds of another’s bed, hearing the sounds of children running in the streets after dark. These are...
SPRING MORNING It is without a word that you follow me outside like a lumbering shadow. We reach the sidewalk, our steps matching. Wind tangles in my hair as we pass apartment doorways and windows. It is when we see the shadows of two people making love through an...
She removed his shirt and pushed him into the moonlight. He became all silvery skin. And so she painted him—deep black covered portions of his arms, his hands, his face, until finally she moved him out of the moonlight. He disappeared, except for a hand here, a limb...
