I remember the yellow afternoon
we spent sprawled in the backfield
of our old elementary school
Your head anointed
with a crown of honeysuckle
sweet succour, sucking from open mouths
broken stems like cracked bones
We would place our lips
around their bodies as if they were our own
and gorge on their honied embrace
when we had nothing sweet between us
The white and purple heads
dance in the wind
among the green grass and open sky
as their dying brothers
litter the ground around us
Hannah Maiorano holds an MA in Medieval History from Aberystwyth University and currently works as a copywriter in Toronto. Her work has previously been published in Snapdragon: A Journal of Art and Healing, The Closed Eye Open, Wingless Dreamer, and more. When she isn’t writing, she loves to paint, visit museums, and hang out with her cat, Ellie.
Sensual and lovely writing.