The Border of Your Heart is patrolled by a tiny figure goose-stepping back and forth, bayonet poised to jab at anyone deemed undesirable, dispensable: anyone not exactly like you. The unscalable black fence around your mind is wrought from rigid iron topped with spikes designed to keep out any thought not your own. What you
This Sweater You think I shouldn’t wear it? Even if it’s my favorite? Well, maybe so. But its pink is the delicate hue of plum blossoms fluttering in the breeze after an endless season of sullen gray clouds and humorless rain, its intricate pattern the wisdom patient fingers acquired by a fireside and passed down
Don’t you understand? You could be her grandfather. Falcon stooping prey. Fresh-picked berry, crushed. Fragrant blossom cast aside. Hummingbird wing, cut. Cloak yourself in shame. No excuses. Douse the fire, stir the embers cold. Lust exposed to light: your name a scrap of paper, shredded. Confetti. Tattered coat, flapping. Your days of empire over. Girls
