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He calls for her
He calls for her as the shattered vase settles into a new cartography near the bed. A floorboard creaks. The day’s pangea just as changed.
Read moreThere is no lasting peace
There is no lasting peace, just days like this: the house warming outside in & Sam, his bare feet on my lap, biting his upper lip & reading.
Read moreWhen he runs his fingers
When he runs his fingers through her hair he feels like undressing his alibis, flimsy as they are. Naked, he wants marriage. Clothed, alone.
Read moreWe lie here
We lie here. This could be an ocean, but for this quiet valley running between us. I’m too exhausted to say sweet things that you’ll forget.
Read more"Charles!…be kind"
“Charles! (shouted)…be kind (murmured). Tell me something good (purred).” He’s riveting in rage: feral, cutting. An opera of knives.
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