Every step is an open-mouthed
kiss with the ground. I ingest the black
body of the soil, the spiders with their
stilettoed legs trailing torn silk
stockings,
decaying leaves like fragments of love
notes scrawled in a veiny hand, and
the fallen flesh of children not my own.
I remember how to pray.
The soles of my feet are breathing. <3
Britt Posmer (am
17.05.2012 17:31via Nell P.)
