here in knots of prep school
plaid that nick
ankles. Peel back
the shade, our silhouette, gossamer
streetlight roams. Let the moon howl
in my ear. I am your tigress, your vaporizer
that you drag, drifting in your words’
swell until you hush. It’s when
you say, all that love, all those times
they looked into each other. That’s you,
I sway, we sway. Say it
again. You are the sound the wind makes when it sieves
through the screen.
Riley Ward is an undergraduate at Salisbury University. This is her first publication.