In the morning, Amber woke to silence—the bird was still asleep beneath its cover and seemed to have disappeared like a magician’s assistant. Josiah had lit another fire and left a note and a pot of oatmeal with brown sugar and raisins for her. I’m at your place. No rush. You need to eat. –J. … Continue reading
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Day 90 of 35
The hot air balloon passed low, and not until it was lost on the horizon did she stop craning her neck to the sky. Continue reading
Day 89 of 35
Dinner party hosting–no time for poetry. Continue reading
Day 88 of 35
I will admit that the rain distracts me. Continue reading
Day 86 of 35
I burn until I peel, offering my skin to the sun, asking that she let the tomatoes ripen on the vine before she splits them in the heat. Continue reading
Day 85 of 35
Mourning I went out into the mud and rain to watch stalled horses, nervous and full of heat, neigh and kick at thunder until the storm passed, and the ghost was given. Continue reading
Day 84 of 35
Too awful a day Continue reading
Day 83 of 35
Sometimes I pretend there was moonlight, ample. That your body was lit bright. That my eyes closed with no other choice. On other nights, I remember that it was dark. That there were no streetlights. That the stars, smothered by the clouds, could not see us, and all we had was touch. Continue reading
Day 82 of 35
There is a sound I can’t identify, past the fall of waves beyond the muttering wind. Continue reading
Day 81 of 35
That’s all there is to it. Continue reading