touch
method
Jasmine
Connecticut
Reach
contained
domesticity
children
boat
key
death
outside
the mere
tricks
late
waits
four
sequence
eve
Cleopatra
played
don't
saints
once
syntactical
talk
healing
geode
Dresden
cellars

Look quickly she says as she comes back in from the car, all swaddled in black coat, blue scarf, black cap and black gloves, her glasses fogging in the heat. The moon is setting in the hills, bright as a peach, only the edge of it yet above the mounds.
He rose without question and went to the window. It was like the shadow moon beneath the thumbnail, that milky rising, a pale suggestion of a disk which is as much a threat as promise. Madmen and torturers pull out fingernails, occasionally a perverse accident splits one. Yet there is a comforting sense to it as well, white imminent wafer like a communion host. He would go back to sleep but he fears his dreams, hears her drive off as the moon drops into the slot of the hills.







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