Deconstruction
It is raining.
The desert is a resurrection when she’s wet.
She ascends;
gives herself away.
I smell my life in her unfolding—
a college girlfriend's perfume,
my dead mother’s Coppertoned neck.
My longing paces the borderline
of a life just out of reach.
I’m not expecting you, but the…Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
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