one hair of her is adhered to the bathtub tonight & the way it is signed there is a bittersweet sight. i try to find meaning in its pale tangerine, tease pleasure from her signature divine. &, as i soak, i stroke with my finger, her porcelain leaving, into the shape of a heart.
I surfaced and I breathed again. Turned it all around. And then I held her in my hand. She told me that she’d been learning speed chess, the hard way; she'd finished Falling For Philosophers by Ezra Maas. And on a towel in the bathroom was an impression that appeared to me … Continue reading Speed chess, the hard way
A vast and beautiful sadness must have unfolded overnight, because when he awoke in his jumbled sheets, there it was, imbuing everything, and he found himself wondering of her return. Wondering would she be the same? Would she appear to be younger or (somehow) older? Would the tangerine fringe she favoured of late have faded, becoming less lustrous; … Continue reading Polaroid Beneath Tissue.
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