You are fluent in the language of making my soul speak. I wonder where you store the volumes of how to love me, whether they stand like civil war soldiers in alphabetical rows, occupying the vacancies between thin fingers. A, B, C… do you see me? Do they live in your core, breathless encyclopedias ofContinue reading “THE LITERATURE OF LEARNING ME”

The Dream I Dream

after Les Misérables, “I Dreamed A Dream.” You haunt my dreams. Not as phantom nor ghost of ages past, but as you were our final summer, all hazelnut-eyed, soft gold. In this fractured reverie we dance. Spinning, I clutch your fragile frame against mine– no fairytale fluff, but real blood and tangled muscle, chemical bondsContinue reading “The Dream I Dream”