March the Eighteenth
Dearest M,
I found some flowers, growing down by the river. Remember how we soaked our feet, and I drifted into your eyes. Next, into your skin. Remember how electric our lips were?
Tesla was born there. Smooth & crystal, flooding, twisting, bubbling up, to breath & light-all at once.
We strung fish up by their spines & they wriggled out of their skins by sun set. We smoked them over the fire til they were crisp & delicious, salted morsels mellowed in lemon & pepper...I licked their guts from your fingers & we watched, as their tails swam back, to the spawning grounds.
Oh how I loved you that day. Your juice on my lips, sweet & sticky—I could not drink enough of your sweet tea, dripping.
The greatest of my affections, HW
YOU ARE READING
The Letters of Hennessy Wedgewood
Short Story"March the Thirty First Dearest M, I've cut it all away. Gutted it. Every last bit of what I once was. I buried it. It kept emerging like bile on a warm rotting day-I stomped it down. Some graves just can't be dug deep enough. I covered it in ston...
