She stood by last night’s bonfire. Flames leapt high, our drunken faces and dancing limbs in hideous relief, like Dante’s inferno on the shore of this northern bay. Continue reading “Red Sky at Morning”
Thick, dark, heaviness. There’s some comfort in that.
Red lights glow in outlying huts of the tiny village of Paanai-phat. Red lights signify the deadly fever is high, though flood waters have receded somewhat. Farther out, hearth fires have been snuffed with no family alive to feed them. Continue reading “The Emperor’s Third Daughter”
Your cheek a false pink from yesterday’s gathering of early spring blooms.
Sun shines bright through the window panes, warming the edge of your pillow.