Autumn settles in nicely. Beacon Hill is all red brick, yellow leaves, and wet pavement. Your hands are so small, barely there, he says, which is code for, I knew you were limp in the wrist. Then he turns them over, smoothes the skin, and kisses each. Especially the left.
Posts Tagged ‘brett w.’
Body II
Posted in 50 words, tagged brett w. on June 17, 2009| Leave a Comment »
Body I
Posted in 50 words, tagged brett w. on June 15, 2009| Leave a Comment »
How sad, I thought. The first time someone wants to touch me naked and I’m passed out, lying on a cold metal operating table. I awoke swathed in blankets with a hernia scar just a few inches in from my left hip. Brand-new pink flesh for me to feel.
Neighbor III
Posted in 50 words, tagged brett w. on June 13, 2009| Leave a Comment »
We lie on your bed while the record plays: Sleep on the floor, dream about me. I watch your lungs rise and bloom like parachutes, as sensitive as the machines that measure earthquakes, as calm as a halcyon. The ceiling fan spins, static, I feel our bones begin to soften.
Neighbor II
Posted in 50 words, tagged brett w. on May 11, 2009| Leave a Comment »
Ryan hates crouching in the tall grass behind our houses. It makes him itch, even hours after we leave. It’s the safest place for us to be, though. Two in the afternoon: hottest time of day. A sweat bead forms on his philtrum. He licks it away with his tongue.
Neighbor I
Posted in 50 words, tagged brett w. on May 11, 2009| Leave a Comment »
Michael unbuckled his pants, asked me to kiss him. He handed me a single white tissue. To wipe off your lips when you’re done. I kneeled and opened my mouth like a black hole, but then a noise in the hallway startled us. We stood, staring, unused tissue between us.
microluv 