Our Paradise Began in the Heat of the South
Though winter came inevitably, and most of the time I loved your scent, which whiffed like clean snow except when you played basketball or worried, thena mélange of dry roses, sweaty musk misted like light-gray billows brooding before rare flakes fall, when small birds burrow in spare evergreens, furlike for the chill and frost ahead of long days. I didn’t… Read more →