That morning we fought over leaves, dirt, crumbs and sugar. He sped off and I was alone in the unwashed kitchen. I swept and scrubbed and bleached. The dull cutting emptiness. I opened all the windows, woodsmoke curled through the glittering forest. A bird, dark as history, rushed into our bedroom to beat lunatic wings against walls and ceiling, then withdraw to the high corner. I waited there, with the bird and the falling light. My love returned, and the neighbors played opera, so we were stars in a theater, and wondered who was behind our roles. Lamplight touched his auburn curls, the west wind. I wore his leaves, blood and gold.
So We Were Stars —
Ariel Dawn lives in Victoria, British Columbia. Recent work has appeared in Ambit 217, Black & Blue, minor literature(s), Ink Sweat & Tears, Litro, Flapperhouse, and great weather for MEDIA. She reads and studies poetic prose and Tarot and is writing a novella. Her twitter handle is @ariel__dawn