What Of It?
I must scream this; I must shriek it aloud from the heavens: What if you are not the man I have hoped for? What if I am only the man that you fear? What then? What then of our love and our time together? What then of the moon on the river between us, this…
With Her Basket of Apples
She knew poetry from her lover, and could repeat it aloud, speaking of stars freshly hewn from the heavenscape, of the cosmic rain that washed her as she stood with her toes in the river, shy and yet unafraid. She knew profound loss, even as she had been so blessed, and she knew, even as…