|
|
|
Third Place Winner: Anne Louise Currie
Pressed
Hard pressed against
the soft edge of joy
I wonder
what it means
to abbreviate
pleasure
into weekends, to hold
the sound of breathing
so close to the gasp
of surprise
You let me
draw memories
on your hands
and write love letters
to your skin
Who knew that love
would feel this way?
Fragile, as hope
Irreverent,
like laughter
Brief as summer, but
just as inevitable
|
|
|
