Longing —Artemis Bronstein

As the summer slides from my hips to my thighs I cannot tear myself from thoughts of your wild-cat eyes. How your hands would caress with such deftness and exactness traversing my buttresses and valleys as one who has known a land since before memory began not a step mislaid you find my secretive sun-filledContinue reading “Longing —Artemis Bronstein”