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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3893 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Losing the Unspoken Steve Williams He squats, a still form, hand held out for the kitten sneaking through the weeds. Once, she let those fingers caress her spinal arch. He held her vibrato, cupped leather feet, bundled her in his jacket, out of the rain. Once, he closed his hands on her, felt the explosion of instinctual panic, as she tore deep lines in his flesh, and fled. Today, she bounds in pursuit of butterflies and imagined mice. He remains crouched, a statue with a bleeding hand, outstretched. She frolics past, refuses to understand statuesque. |
