Wednesday, May 20, 2015


How brackish those inland seas we carry within us, and how sweet
the salt memory of those tides. This is all I can do, now: fix myself
a cup of coffee, watch the honey-thread spin itself in as I stir, catch
it on the tip of my finger and lick it off. A taste of that mineral elixir,
and I recall how the berry stains set on your hands: sweat as mordant
fixing the juice, dyeing the memory, our skin damp as the inland sea.


Dale said...

Oh, that's gorgeous.

am said...

Thank you for this, Lori.

Kind wishes,

am said...

Thank you for this.

Kind wishes,

Lori Witzel said...

Heyo my friends - just found the buried treasure of your comments via the non-mobile site's backend. Thank you for your time, your reading these, and your sweetness. ((((hug))))