1 (iphone) photo and 1 poem
by annette covrigaru

My tongue will unspool memories
and they won't be gentle, but she will receive them gently.

I will skim my knuckles on her forearm and silently wish her skin were concrete, then at least the moment would be permanent.

I once heard a fable of a teenage girl in the neighboring town who carved her boyfriends name into her pelvis.

Sick was my second thought, but love was my first.

She's carved herself into me without even trying, without even knowing.