With Time Their Wings Fade
Where skinny shoulder blades should have ended, they began, two shadows sprouting from the child’s back. Wings made of dust.
In, in, in, In to sleep.
He’s so much older. You’ll spend half your life alone. What will you do when he’s falling apart and you’re still young?
What do you do, El?Tomorrow you get up. You make coffee. You make bacon. You tell his work that he is gone. You call town. You look for a job. You sell the house. You look in everyone’s eyes and see how they think you got what you asked for, so young, marrying so old. What did you think you’d get? His back, his face, all the Ellabelles and kindness. A hand on your stomach that didn’t mind the sadness. Someone who was afraid you were lonely, but understood when you said, “Not enough.”
I heard we should come here. That you could help.
I lost . . .
We want a child so badly.
Enter your email address to receive notifications for author Erika Swyler
You have been added to the notification list for author Erika Swyler
More by this author
Like much of Florida, it appears both ridiculous and dangerous and gambling is involved. I think. I still don’t understand it.