Artemis, whose real name no one knew, was demonstrating how to string a bow and arrow. Her assistant organized arrows into a row of quivers. Farther down the meadow, half-deflated balloons bobbed, taped to hay bales. Beyond the bales was a stand of trees that marked the national forest line. Allie stretched her legs, the […]
“Primal, this cycle, days after separation we search
for one another: our delicious ghost scent in
sheets or pillows, on shirts or skin.”
I have been missing from this year’s spring.
Witness to the winter aconite and snowdrops, the first daffodils,
but not the tulips or hyacinths.