brings it back like birds exploding
from the tops of forests.
The blanket heat of Sarawak.
His dirt-brown skin, French accent.
We were too young to know about sex.
We curled up like cubs
in the grass behind the squash courts.
by Fiona Robyn of a small stone
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Beautiful.
This is wonderful.
Whoo! Stunning! This one doesn’t fool around! (Sorry about the pun.) It would take me forever to file it down to something like this. Very well done!
Yes, Fiona, you’ve told me just enough to make the memory particular, and universal too. Beautiful, memorable, hot.
A stunner. So happy I dropped by to read one final thing before sleep.