by kvennarad

image unknown, poem © Marie Marshall

image unknown, poem
© Marie Marshall

UranusI can remember: my own words, the breadth of your forehead, how clean cotton scented by the draw of the afternoon, that you bowed and kissed the back of my hand and giggled, the sandscape of little hairs on my own arm. I can’t remember: your mother’s name (although she told me once, with cinnamon on her breath), and the name of the tune we danced to. All I know is I trusted to mercy, and lean that way still.