Sarah Cooke: Orange

Spring '11 TOC

a cascade of orange breath around her breast.

my fingers are exhausted from so much touching you.

            but they'll never wear out.  I swear.

an American flower petals
through concrete at their feet,
causing him to remark.



                        (something sweet about life's endurance)

the weekend passes.

she drinks cups of tea by herself
and holds a pillow
instead of his body.

                                    It almost works.



in a California park
he sits on a tree stump and pockets a snail shell
he finds in winter grass.

something about
the nearness of water
cuts through distances.

on the same day
but at different hours
they take new steps
in the direction of afternoon.

:: Next ::

Not Enough Night
Not Enough Night
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