February 2012
1 post
4snp
Swiftly, A moment crystalized like amber.
Memories are etched,
Photographic. The linen sinks. My hand sifts through folds; following the fingertips of my senses. Finally reaching your hip; closer; the backfire of my breath heating the air to breathe. Beautiful, alluvial—fine strains—brown are the spindles of gold shining my face. Mosaic. Impulse brings me closer to the olive...