Most likely, you think we commercialized love...
My belly is an island My breasts a pair of dunes Rising above a sea of Blankets The landscape of my body Has been changed Not by your hands But because of them Forgive me I used to find beauty Only In an unbroken horizon
four thirty AM three doors down a crow finds its voice Trying out a lune this week. Posted on non-fic because, well, it's true.
You once told me, the moon is made of salt, that all the tears that ever were are kept hidden there, disguised as dust. You spoke matter-of-factly, your pale face made sanguine by the dying sun. With deft fingers you stole dew from the grass, bade me drink from your palm. Above us, fronds of … Continue reading The truth of honey and salt
All the stars that crowd the ether— Unremarkable, compliant— Travel routes which are reliant On the plan prescribed by nature. Men’s desires have deceived her As she dwindles, meek and pliant, Though I bid her stay defiant. Once the pivot passed beneath her Never could she make a detour.