17 April 2018

april and snow.


some days ago now:

snow fell on hydrangeas, on daffodils, on green, and for one april, and just one april only, francis brown is so small, he moves through the world zipped inside his mother's coat, heartbeat to heartbeat, one who once breathed through her body, two who were once connected by a string, his warm, dewy breath a fog rolling into the cove of her neck.

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