May 27, 2018


 

The cold, low winter sun falls red upon the stair.

It’s like this every afternoon, late, when I’m alone.

Before the sky turns black I think of you and me.

My eyes move toward the room we shared. You kissed him there beneath the stair, before ascending to our room.

I turn...

May 17, 2018

Abort! Abort!

The tide was out; humidity settled wet and heavy over Silvio Caro. The Asp, a cigarette boat carved from a solid billet of titanium, lay in repose slightly below the level of the dock, water rising and falling much like the danger punctuating the war betwe...

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