DISTANCE |
I wake up alone to the sound of the city sirens and think of home. Of the quiet. Of that night we jumped the fence to the plum-orchard. How the sun lingered on the cusps of clouds and the locusts hummed with the thrum of our pulses. How our lungs heaved the heavy air. How I wanted you to the point of frenzy: soiled fruit falling from my shaking hands. Of your arm slung around me as we walked. How I laid my head on your hip, your hand in my hair, my fingertips tracing your palm, your calluses rimmed with rust, now so much like us. |