July 2011
3 posts
When it happened
When it happened, Maria was indoors. The storm had been growing for some time, thick, heavy clouds squatting low over the city. She pressed her fingers to the glass. It was cool against the fleshy pads. Far away lightning flashed, soundless now. Maria counted. She’d reached four before the rumble vibrated through her fingertips, up her arm, into her heart.
Maria took her fingers from the...
2 tags
Love
I write about love all the time
Time is all I have to write about love
I write for all time about love.
This is silly because I don’t know anything about love.
I have denied love three times before the dawn.
And before the dusk a hundred times again.
And now I am asked again.
I don’t know what love is.
Ask me again tomorrow.