Under your puffer, you sweat from the exertion of the approach, but each step brings cooler air. It won’t be long before the rock becomes numbingly cold.
Unawareness can be exhaustion, but the very act of poetry is recognition—witnessing. To tell her truth, Nguyen must tell what is, to her, a mystery itself.
When she swallowed, you could see, if you watched closely enough, a lump moving down her gullet and into the abyss of her impossibly beautiful body, infinitely and effortlessly more beautiful than mine.