Silverspark14

dawn. legs splash from milky sheets. she rises from the bed like a wave and crests, just before bare feet touch wood and fog crawls across the mirror. midmorning. footsteps leave damp prints on the floor. she sings in muted tendrils that float through hollow rooms. the sun dries her hair with copper fingers. noon. the shadows bunch beneath her feet and she tosses them across the sky- painting clouds over the staring sun. mile-long legs stretch across the world and she makes love to the hand-me-down earth. afternoon. her quickened breath becomes the wind and sails ships across the seven seas. dusk. when the sun grows w