I notice the leaves in the Jardin have changed / overnight,
but mention this to no one / for fear of continuity problems.
“Luciana and I spread boundless, oceans of braided wildwood. I said our adventure and she yes, brought things that said she wanted to agree. A patterned dress, a pound of sliced meat, a thin bra that turned her the pearlescence of a shell. We slipped into the hive some lustrous word, carving wooden houses, translating each other into texture and light.”
Alyssa Morhardt-Goldstein | Nympholepsy