You often says things in which I can say little in return—my growing deficiency—and the sky turns yellow. We lay a blanket in a field in the middle of nowhere and return to find it covered in earth that cannot grow. We lie in this space and stare into a sky filled with clouds that… Read More Speech Impediment
Break open the branch. Inside– there is lime and tree foam. Like marrow. The white liquid that illuminates the skin, full of leaves and freshly-plucked strawberries. Like dawn, opening: he captures this about her in a painting, surrounds her with blood oranges, places roses around her face. The girl becomes something like a funeral, the… Read More No Skin Included.
There was a morning when she opened herself to horses— it was a sort of release, the wind and soft petals under her toes. She waited out in the field, their bodies lingering off on the horizon. They looked black against the sun, manes twisting, all muscle. She imagined their eyes, like dew and something… Read More Nights that Dreamed Her Open