I’m still spitting out the sand
The sun spun three times around my heart before you betrayed my trust. My eyes became a precipice of tears, mountain ranges thrusting up between us. There was no sense finding footing so I allowed myself the fall. Caught in the undertow of memory and fantasy. Your kisses so deep they dug an oasis from my mouth.
I think of your sharp cheekbones, diving between undulating thighs like shark fins. Your hands clamping onto breasts as she drowns you beneath her shores.
San Pedro River Review 18.2
Carella Keil