Thursday, January 26, 2006



I walked for hours last night.

The whiteness of birch, bleached limbs that crawl like spilled milk over the sky. I was thinking of your arms and legs, that night, how I would gather them in towards me, how they came together and moved apart lazily but with ease. I spread them around me and breathed in your hair while you laughed and I sighed. Do you remember that? You must.

2 Comments:

At 4:40 PM, Blogger poo-king said...

brilliant,talented,a tour-de-force,the future of Canadian Lit., watch out for this rising star ! Dad.

 
At 5:01 PM, Blogger Heather Glasgow said...

thanks dad ... you should have signed it under a pen name though. ha ha ha

 

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