Hyacinth Girl
In the glory of the lilies, I was born across the sea. It was signaled by a storm so great it could be seen by three surrounding counties where the wind whispered the wild word that me – I mean, that I’d arrived. You were born amid the hyacinths the D.O.T. laid down on the median of an interstate we take to leave the town – you are prettier than I am and reply that yes you know, but we have places to go. We are petals of bright flowers that the wind swept as one once – collected in a gutter, smothered each other for fun but when the next breeze came behind us you were pushed too far away. I am low on things to say.
FICTION 