When he stared into her eyes, he stuttered, knowing
that whatever he said
he'd imagined a thousand times
and each of those thousand times, he couldn't find the words—
not moon nor lips, not the simplest image of love.
All he could utter were sounds, sounds from deep
in the windpipe, an animal caught in an abandoned leg trap,
repeating its simple cry, clear and pure as silence.
Already have an account? Log in
Join KR for even more to read.
Sign up for a free account and read any five pieces a month.
Next