Читать книгу Solve for Desire - Caitlin Bailey - Страница 11

LOST LETTER

This is the first time I’ve written to you,

and I know now why they called me little witch.

My hands have done terrible things.

I remember the first time, your hand cupped

over the glass and over mine, O charging desire—

the welcome rush of the wild heart, poppies

blooming under my skin, a perfect red burst.

And now he’s in the other room, and I can’t

be long remembering you. You wore your anger

like a bare coat until I plucked myself from your

pocket. I knew nothing of loss.