How It Ends
Wind and a weakness, dandelion letting go through a rift in summer. Someone imagines loving the cold. Out of the clouds the slant wish, one color— dust on the pond, your breath closing a mirror.
Wind and a weakness, dandelion letting go through a rift in summer. Someone imagines loving the cold. Out of the clouds the slant wish, one color— dust on the pond, your breath closing a mirror.