And where was she? In the wishes of another time. In a field full of dandelions and in the arms of a dance. On a clifftop hill where the grass was underwater green and specks of yellow and the water and sky a pale blue gray beyond and in between. She was holding his arm, she smiled at his black hair. She was tangled in the surf. She was at the service, looking down; she was in her grandmother’s shoes (which had been found). She had all of these thoughts while lying on her back in a body of water.
How could she hold them all?
She was floating or falling,
Copyright © 2020 Olivia Powell. All Rights Reserved.