As January’s sun, appearing hot through glass, desire is predicated on taking accurate temperature and my mercury is risen. More trees are willows than you might think, my body is catkins, buds, so much has changed since you visited the neighborhood, I’ve built a park I thought you’d like and that you’ve never seen. All … Continue reading Refraction
Tag: Alice Tarbuck
Miracles
I put my body in the loch and knew no more about it afterwards than its temperature. Two swans circled and didn’t care. I carried home the skin of an orange, wet knickers, the noise of goats in the far field the shriek of myself in the water. This false summer is riven with itself: … Continue reading Miracles