All it takes is awareness; he is fixed
in the motion of peel. Depending on how she holds her flesh, his blade may or
may not run smooth. A knot needs only one opening to impair his rhythm. Mars
the ease with which he sinks into reverie, sliver of eye open to the glow of
embedded pigment.
The glisten. A catch of air or skin,
inhalation. When the sky opens just a pulse, a singular stroke will let him
into her. Imagine the interruption this causes, hand on blade.
Sleep knows two things: dreams or
oblivion. This is his way of allowing
her to see, far better than slumber. Quaking. Intensities of harsh breath. The
sound is his alone, while she persists in sustained hush. Only silent. It is
soft.
Trisia Eddy is the author of Edith & Aurelia: A Romantic Tragedy in Five Acts (2011, Dancing Girl Press), and editor and publisher of Red Nettle Press. Her work has been included in a variety of literary journals and collaborations, and she is currently immersed in a series of artists' books inspired by recent visits to Natural History museums throughout North America and Europe. Visit online at: www.rednettlepress.com
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