Four writers for the price of one blog
I have heard you wake and rise from bed, go from the room and leave the door ajar. I imagine some night I’ll get up too. I’ll walk through the house lit by the moon or a dark night’s snow and find you by the half-light, a hip in the light of a window’s square, or thigh or breast.
····in the morning—midnight still smears
Redbud | December 10 2016